


Claiming Severus Snape

by OttersandDoes86



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Breathplay, Caning, Domestic Violence, Double Penetration, F/M, Face-Fucking, Flogging, Fluff and Smut, Forced Orgasm, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shibari, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 96,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OttersandDoes86/pseuds/OttersandDoes86
Summary: The war is over and life goes on. But for two people it seems that everything stays mostly the same. Hermione Granger is still a know-it-all, back at school and seemingly in her element. Severus Snape survived and has taken up residence in the Potion's classroom once more. She hides behind her books and he hides behind his sneer and his wit. What if that wasn't all they were hiding? What if they found each other?





	1. The Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> Rated E…not for everyone. Smut starts immediately and it gets pretty intense. There is some mildly dubious consent, some bondage, and some rough treatment. Don’t like….please don’t read.
> 
> I am not JKR and these are not my characters. I just like to make them do naughty things. For free.

Chapter 1: The Misunderstanding

Her nipples scraped against the stone wall with every thrust of the powerful wizard behind her. His strong hand wrapped around her neck, pressing her face into the wall and cutting off most of her air supply. The sensation of rough stone on her tender nipples, calloused fingers around her throat and hip, and a large cock jack hammering in and out of her warm, wet cunt combined with her oxygen-deprivation-induced euphoria to send her screaming into an orgasm so strong her quim strangled the dark wizard’s cock.

                The man thrust through her contractions, hitting her cervix with each impaling and that special spot inside that made her see stars with each retreat. He pounded through her orgasm, his hand leaving her throat to roughly grasp one perky nipple, brutally twisting at the same time that he mimicked the action on her clit. She came again in a tidal wave of sensation, whimpering and keening like a wounded animal. And still he thrust.

                His fingers plucked, pulled and pinched her nipples while their brothers slid through her nether lips, squicking through her thick juices, circling her clit, and spreading her lips wide. And all the while his thick, long prick continued to pound and pound and pound with no sign of stopping. Her pussy was dripping and so swollen it was like thrusting into a fist. She was so overwhelmed with sensation, chafed raw by his attention, and exhausted from her orgasms that she just wanted to sleep, or cry, or both. She wanted to come again, could feel it building, but her previous orgasms made it almost impossible for her. She was so oversensitive that each stroke of his fingers sent electric jolts through her body and each pump of his hips made her cry out in pleasure and pain. If she didn’t get relief soon, she felt she might die.

                The wizard removed his fingers from her breast and replaced the ones at her cunt, which he quickly brought around to her backside, rimming her puckered hole before sliding deep, two at a time, her own juices lubricating his way. She cried out and whimpered in protest but still he persisted, thrusting his fingers in and out of her anus in counterpane to the thrust of his cock while flicking her clit and ramming his dick deep inside her. She broke, thrashing her limbs, screaming, crying, begging him to stop, begging him not to stop, her muscles clenching so tight that the man had to finally stop thrusting because he literally was caught in a vice.

                The milking of her cunt finally sent the man over the edge and he came deep inside her with a low groan and one final flick of her clit, dragging her down with him. When he could catch his breath, he pulled roughly out of her, watching his semen, tinged pink from the strength of his thrusts, slowly slide down her creamy thigh. Her knees buckled and he let her fall to them, palms braced against the wall and head bent, her ragged breathing shaking her small body.

A flick of his wand and he was clean and dressed, staring at the petite naked body crouched on his office floor. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the witch looked up, an exhausted but thoroughly satisfied look on her face. A look she lost when she saw him clean, clothed and completely, coldly composed.

“Was it what you expected?” the wizard asked. “Did it fulfill your fantasy? Was it brutal enough for you?”

“What?” she asked. “Brutal enough? Expectations? What are you…”

“Don’t play coy,” he snapped. “You wanted to fuck a Death Eater and so you did. If I was too gentle, I could give it another go but you will need to give me some time. I am too old for ten minute refractory periods. Perhaps you should have asked the younger Mr. Malfoy.”

“I didn’t…that’s not…what?” The witch seemed thoroughly confused, though that could be attributed to the fact that she had her brains fucked out just a moment ago.

“You didn’t what? Enjoy it? My cock begs to differ. If you had come any harder you might have. Snapped. It. Off. You certainly weren’t protesting,” drawled the wizard in a deep baritone that, even after 3 orgasms, made the witch shiver. The wizard noticed and smirked. “Ah, yes, you did seem to enjoy what I had to say. Tell me, Miss Granger, was it when I called you a _filthy mudblood whore_ or when I asked if you _liked being fucked by my Death Eater cock_ that got you off that last time?”

Hermione was so dazed she didn’t seem to notice that she was still kneeling, naked at his feet. She couldn’t believe what he was saying to her. She knew he had been talking to her while they…did that, but she was too lost in sensation to pay attention to his actual words. Just the silky, deep tone had penetrated her lust filled brain.

“I didn’t hear any of that. I didn’t know what you were saying. I don’t know what you’re saying now,” she insisted.

“The resident know-it-all is confessing to not knowing something? I find that hard to believe. You certainly responded well enough to my words just moments ago. “

Hermione was finally coming out of her daze. She didn’t quite understand what was going on, but she knew enough to reach for her wand in order to clean and dress. The wizard was having none of that, though. He snatched her wand away and stowed it in his robes.

“I didn’t say I was through with you, Miss Granger. You wanted a Death Eater, and I think I might just want to deliver. I like you naked at my feet. Maybe I’ll put a collar on you and show all my Death Eater friends my new pet.”

“Stop saying that! Why do you keep saying that? You’re not a Death Eater!” Hermione shouted, muscles still too weak to stand upon. “I didn’t want to fuck a Death Eater. I just wanted to be with _you_ , you insufferable bastard! God, it wasn’t what you said that got me off; it was your voice alone. I’ve fantasized about your voice since 5th year, Professor. It wasn’t being fucked by a Death Eater; it was being claimed by you, being filled with you, being surrounded and consumed by you!”

“Do not patronize me, Miss Granger,” Snape sneered. “I’m twice your age, mean and ugly. I’m not some dark hero for you to worship. I’m… just… dark.”

“That isn’t true. You’ve always tried to protect us. Anything you’ve done was for the greater good. You are a brilliant wizard and a good man,” Hermione insisted.

“You are too old to be so naïve,” Snape snarled. “A good man wouldn’t have taken a 17 year old witch against a dungeon wall. A good man would have politely declined your offer of ‘a way to stop thinking’, I think you called it, and sent you on your way. I am not good, Miss Granger, and you would do well to remember tonight and accept it as the lesson it was meant to be.”

“And what should I have learned?” Hermione asked. She knelt at his feet still, nothing covering her nudity except Gryffindor bravery and righteous indignation, which she allowed to bolster her to her feet. “That you are a man, with the needs of a man? Did you think I didn’t already know that? Why then would I have sought you out, propositioned you? I not only knew it, I was counting on it.”

Hermione stepped closer to the man who had terrorized her and her friends for 6 years, meeting his eyes head on and not stopping until she was so close she had to tilt her head back to maintain the eye contact. Snape, of course, stood his ground, glaring down at her as though she were one of the dunderheads in his classroom, one misstep away from blowing up a cauldron.

“And furthermore, I’m 19. Time turner in third year. And I’m pretty sure the war I just fought gains me at least another decade in experience! Now, if you are done trying to intimidate me, I’ll take my wand and my dignity and see myself out.”

Snape held tight to the witch’s wand, aware that she was quite adept at spells and quick with a hex. He let his eyes wander, noticing other admirable qualities about the petite witch before him. Her hair was still a riot of curls and her face plain, but charming with its smattering of freckles and big hazel eyes. She had a delicate neck, long and slender with a perfect, purple hand print just under her jaw. She had lost weight the previous year and had not gained it all back, making her wide hips seem even curvier than they were, hips that were bruised from his fingers. Her breasts were small and tipped with dusky brown nipples, somewhat red and chafed from their rough treatment at his hands and the stone wall. Her legs were long for someone so small, knees scraped from her fall to the floor. All told, she looked well fucked. He felt himself begin to harden once more.

“No,” he stated simply.

“No?” Hermione wasn’t sure she understood. “No, what?”

“You will not be leaving just yet. On your knees, Miss Granger,” Snape commanded.

“Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you correctly. It sounded like you were holding me hostage and commanding me to kneel like a dog.” Hermione’s hair sparked with her magic.

Snape was very interested in the way her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at him, and her face began to redden. Her passion was definitely a turn on. If she wanted him so badly, who was he to deny her? He would give her what she wanted but didn’t know she was asking for.

“You claim you want me, so shall you have me. On. Your. Knees. Now,” he growled. He took notice of the change in her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest speeding up, and the pulse beating heavily in her neck.

“So you can call me a whore again? I think not, sir. My wand, if you please,” she said haughtily, hand out expectantly.

Snape surprised her by grabbing her by the hand, spinning her away from him, and shoving her down to her knees with a well placed hand on the back of her neck. He smirked as he smelled her renewed arousal. It appeared that Miss Granger enjoyed his manhandling very much.

“Put your cheek against the floor and your hands behind your back,” he commanded softly, yet firmly. He knew she was going to deny him and make it difficult, and was looking forward to the confrontation.

“Fuck you,” Hermione spat, attempting to regain her feet.

“Oh, you will,” Snape purred. “Do as I say, witch, or you will not like the consequences.”

“Fuck. You.”

Snape chuckled darkly before using an _incarcerous_ with precision to bind Hermione’s hands together behind her back, leaving a length of rope free like a reign, which he used to slow her momentum as he shoved her down to the ground until her right cheek lay flush with the cold stones and her delectable ass, red from his hips, was up in the air, cunt on full display. Snape did not fail to notice her glistening folds or the thick smell of arousal permeating the room.

“My, my, Miss Granger, but you do like it rough. Look at your pretty pussy dripping with my come,” he drawled, sliding two fingers deep into her waiting channel and gathering some of their combined juices. “But I’ve already dipped my wick, so to speak. Now, for those consequences, Miss Granger. After all, I am a good man and a good man keeps his word.”

Without further ado, he dragged his fingers, liberally coated with her arousal and his own spunk, out of her slick heat and up to her puckered hole. Hermione’s back stiffened and she attempted to raise her head but Snape held her firmly down by the neck. His wet fingers rimmed her rosette, occasionally returning to gather more lubrication. Snape made sure he thrust deep and curled his fingers on the way out so that in mere minutes he had Hermione whimpering and arching her ass towards his hands.

When she felt she couldn’t take another minute of his ministrations, Snape suddenly buried one of his long fingers knuckle deep in her ass. She hissed at the burning stretch but was so far gone that she didn’t protest his sudden intrusion. He began to steadily thrust his finger into her tight passage, his words doing just as much as his fingers to bring her closer to release.

“When properly prepared, anal sex can be quite pleasurable. I can make you beg for it, Miss Granger. I can have you riding the edge of bliss for hours, until your body only knows my touch, the thrust of my cock, and will forever compare all other lovers to me and find. Them. Lacking.”

“Please,” Hermione whimpered. “Please, please, please.”

“Would you like more, Miss Granger?” Snape asked benignly. He added a second finger quickly followed by a third. “You were so stunned when I did this before, I was sure that you had never been taken this way. You are taking to it quite well, my dear.” He withdrew his fingers completely and smirked as he watched her roll her hips, seeking his touch. “Tell me, do you want my cock in your delectable little ass, Miss Granger? Do you want your greasy old professor to fuck you in this tight little hole?”

Hermione moaned, a breathy sound that ended in a grunt as Snape thrust deeply into her dripping quim, having magically removed his clothing once more. Her walls instantly clamped down onto his hard length, reluctant to let go now that she was finally filled.

“Tut, tut, none of that. I’m just getting wet,” Snape chastised before pulling out and positioning himself at her virgin hole. He grabbed the extra length of rope, wrapping it around his hand and pulling tight, causing Hermione’s back to arch almost painfully. Without warning he thrust his full length into her, relishing the tight squeeze around his cock and the high pitched scream that left the witch’s mouth. He stilled just until he felt her relax a bit around him and then he started thrusting, pulling slowly out but ramming powerfully back in, as deep as he could go. He loved the animalistic grunts his pounding thrusts were dragging out of the witch.

Snape could see the skin of Hermione’s wrists chafing raw so he shifted his grip to her bushy brown curls, changing the angle of his thrusts. Hermione’s grunts turned to one long, continuous moan as the new angle hit a spot that made her vision go white. She was going to come soon. All the signs were there. As much as Snape wanted to finish inside the witch, he wanted to prove his point more. So he slowed his thrusts, until he was barely moving at all, bringing her body down from the precipice.

“I told you there would be consequences for your defiance,” Snape growled. He caught the barest whisper and leaned over the nubile body beneath him to listen more closely.

“Please, please, please. I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the witch begged. “I need…I can’t…please, please.”

“You beg so prettily, Miss Granger,” Snape purred in her ear, grinning when he felt her entire body shudder. “Use your words, dear. What do you want?”

“Please, god, please, please, please,” Hermione whimpered. She wanted to move. She wanted him to move.

“Your. Words. Miss. Granger,” Snape insisted, thrusting shallowly in time with his words. “If you don’t tell me what you want, right now, I shall remove myself from your sweet little body and leave you here, your pretty cunt grasping at nothing, desperately seeking release. Talk.”

“Move,” Hermione pleaded. “I want you to move. Please.”

“Like this, Miss Granger?” Snape asked as he thrust shallowly and slowly.

“Deeper,” she moaned.

Maintaining his snail’s pace, Snape thrust all the way in, pulled out, and pushed all the way back in again. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Faster, please, god, faster, please,” she keened.

Snape increased his pace but kept his movements limited to a gentle undulation. He used his grip on Hermione’s hair to turn her head to the side so he could look at her face, smirking in satisfaction at her blown pupils and the perfect O of her Cupid ’s bow lips. Her skin was flushed pink and sweat curled the baby hairs along her forehead. Her fingers were twitching against his stomach from their position behind her back and her thighs were trembling against his own. He removed his hand from her hip and brought it up to gently roll her nipple between his fingers, watching as her eyes rolled in bliss.

“Do you like that, Miss Granger? Is this what you _need_?” Snape asked, his voice little more than a growl.

“Harder, please, fuck me harder, sir,” Hermione responded. “Oh, god, I’m so close.”

In response, Snape abruptly stopped all motion, nearly coming himself at the needy, desperate sound his witch made. Suddenly he wanted to see her. He wanted to watch her face as she toppled over the edge. He wanted to see her breasts bounce as he pounded her into the floor and feel her legs wrapped around him. Decision made, he pulled out of her, released the _incarcerous_ silently and wandlessly, and flipped her onto her back.

“I want you to watch me, Miss Granger,” he commanded. “I want to see you fall off that edge and know that your ugly old professor is the one who tipped you over. Lift your legs and wrap them around my waist.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t,” Hermione cried. She weakly tried to move her limbs but didn’t have the strength to do so.

Snape hooked his elbows under both knees, spreading Hermione wide open and rolling her body until he had her where he wanted her. He sat back on his heels, hauled her closer, and slammed his rigid cock into her waiting hole. He enjoyed the stunned look that crossed Hermione’s face, eyes widening and jaw falling open in a silent scream.

“You wanted faster, deeper, harder,” Snape hissed, “and so you shall have it. Brace yourself.” And with that he began. His thrusts were nearly brutal, hitting deeper in the new position, and Hermione’s breasts did in fact bounce in time to his pounding. “I won’t stop this time, Miss Granger. I am going to fuck your ass until you scream and then I’m going to come all over your pink little pussy. You will not clean yourself before tomorrow night. I want you to wear my scent, my mark, all day so you remember who this cunt and this ass belong to. Now, scream for me, pet.”

Hermione screamed as her orgasm ripped through her. Her body went completely stiff as if she had been hit with a _petrificus totalis_ , back bowing, neck arching back, hands clawing at the stone floor. Her inner walls clenched painfully around nothing and her back passage clamped so tightly around Snape’s stiff cock that he could barely move. He pulled out, dropped Hermione’s legs to the floor, and wrapped one elegant hand around his cock, jacking up and down three, four, five times and coming in thick, ropey strands over her pussy lips, burning the image of the pearlescent liquid on her swollen, red cunt into his mind.

                They both remained as they were, panting heavily, until Snape regained his composure enough to speak. “That is what you get from me, Miss Granger. That is the man you think you want. I tolerate no defiance, no disobedience. I command your pleasure. You come when I say, whenever I say. If not, there are consequences, even punishments. If you do as instructed, follow the rules, there are rewards. Think about what I’ve said. If this is amenable to you, come to me as instructed tomorrow. If not, by all means, make use of the bath through that door and be gone.”

                He gracefully got back to his feet and retreated to his private chambers through a secondary door, leaving her wand on the desk, her clothes on the chair, and her body sprawled and broken on the floor, the decision hers to make. She slowly regained her feet, dressed and walked through the door and out into the hallway. She wasn’t sure if her blissed out, weakened muscles would make it back to Gryffindor Tower, but she was damned sure not making a stop in the baths on the way there. She would wear his mark and she would return the following evening for her reward.


	2. Reminiscing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus look back on how they got to this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter was a mix of the two POV’s but starting from this chapter forward, the POV will switch from Hermione to Snape. Switches are marked by a line of x’s and the switching of titles. Snape is referred to as Severus when it is his POV and Hermione is some variation of Miss Granger. Conversely, Hermione is referred to as, well, Hermione when she is steering the ship.

Chapter 2: Reminiscing

How Hermione made it back to the tower without getting caught or completely collapsing was beyond her. But made it she did, all the way up to her single room, where she quickly undressed and fell into bed. Being a war hero had its advantages, she guessed. She didn’t have to share a dorm, for one, which at least alleviated the worry that she would wake others with her frequent nightmares.

                _Don’t think about that, Hermione,_ she commanded herself. _Therein lays madness._

She laughed somewhat ruefully at her thoughts. These days she was almost certain she was going mad. She had jumped at the chance to return to Hogwarts to redo her 7th year and sit her N.E.W.T.’s. She had been looking for something, anything, to distract her from her life, or rather, the lives of her friends, which seemed to be moving right along happily while hers…didn’t.

Harry had found his family in the Weasley’s. Mrs. Weasley was the perfect surrogate mother and Ginny the perfect girlfriend, providing the affection and attention he had lacked his whole life while not taking any of his shit. He jumped right into Auror training and was meeting everybody’s high expectations with aplomb. Ginny was helping him turn number 12 into a proper home and Hermione suspected that wedding bells were soon to follow. She was happy for him. Truly. She just couldn’t witness his domestic bliss without thinking about her parents and remembering all the cute things they would do to show they loved each other. That they loved her.

Ron reveled in his new-found fame and recognition. He too had joined the Aurors and was enjoying his time by Harry’s side and in the bed of whichever witch paid him the most attention at any given time. Their shared kiss during the battle hadn’t really gone anywhere as Ron couldn’t seem to move past the idea that Harry and Hermione were alone for months and had a bond he himself didn’t understand but had not been with one another romantically. He didn’t really believe them when they said that nothing had or ever would have happened and that they felt more like siblings than even friends sometimes. Since he couldn’t get over it, he couldn’t really trust her affections for him and so he found that affection elsewhere.

Out of everyone that Hermione knew, George was struggling the most, what with the loss of Fred. For a few short weeks, George and Hermione had found solace with each other. Hermione confided in him about what she had done to her parents to keep them safe and how she wasn’t sure how she was going to get them back, since she didn’t even know where exactly they were. Being an only child meant that she was truly alone in the world. They seemed to find somewhat kindred spirits with each other.

They talked. About everything. About nothing. And then one night they stopped talking. Sex with George was easy. They didn’t love each other. They didn’t want a relationship. They didn’t even really want each other. But it was a way to make the rest of the world and all of their sorrows go away for a while. A way to stop thinking. He introduced her to frantic kisses, frenzied coupling in various positions and against a multitude of surfaces, and orgasms that, while not as intense as what she experienced at the hands of her Potion’s Professor, were nonetheless quite pleasurable.

Then Hermione got her invitation to return to Hogwarts and George went back to his shop and that was that. Hermione had clung to the letter and what it represented as if it was the last life jacket on a sinking ship. Hogwarts was home. Hogwarts was easy. Classes, homework, revising, exams, routine. There was enough at Hogwarts to overload her brain and she was sure she could perhaps find peace there.

Instead, she found mind-numbingly boring classes with nothing new to teach her. She found students fawning over her, wanting her autograph, wanting her to tell about her role in the war like she would actually want to relive starving, being scared out of her mind, being tortured, and watching friends and loved ones die. Obliviating her own parents. Watching Ron abandon them. Sending Harry off to die alone. Listening to that damned snake strike down a man she had never quite believed was a traitor and murderer.

Worse yet, everyone looked to her to be strong, to be in control, to lead them in this new era where they could all see the thestrals and they had all faced loss. She came back to find solace and instead found herself trapped in a never-ending loop of the worse year of her life. That was what had sent her running to Professor Snape.

Her subconscious had some serious explaining to do. One minute she was recalling the wonderful numbness, the blissful silence inside her brain achieved when being fucked by a wizard who knew what he was doing and the next she was filtering through her options, determined to end her evening wrapped around a thick cock.

She wanted someone who wouldn’t expect her to be in control, to have her shit together, to keep calm and fucking carry on. She needed someone who understood what it was like to go mad, to be pulled in conflicting directions. She didn’t even quite know what she wanted other than for something to help her stop thinking, to take her out of her own skin and let her just be.

If anybody knew how she felt, it was Snape.

She thought that with spending over 20 years under the control of two masters, Severus Snape would leap at the chance to take control wherever he found it. He proved that in his classroom every day. He was the obvious choice.

Sure, Hermione knew about how he had loved Harry’s mother. She just found it impossible that a man with that voice, that level of skill and intelligence and wit, had not been approached by a witch, had not taken an opportunity to find some small measure of happiness, or pleasure, in 20 years. And if he had repressed his desires, she felt that her offer might be enough to tempt him to let go.

Who was she kidding? If he had held out for this long, she had absolutely nothing to offer other than a chance to humiliate one of his least favorite students. But if that was the incentive needed to get what she wanted, so be it. She could be his proverbial whipping boy if she got to also have a blindingly good orgasm afterwards.

She found herself outside his office door before she knew she was even on her way there. Thinking back, she could only remember bits and pieces of what happened before the fucking. She didn’t remember knocking but she had a clear picture of him swinging the door open, dramatic as ever, robes billowing, lips lifted in his trademark sneer, and snarling at her.

She couldn’t recall what she said but had no problem envisioning brushing past him to sit primly in an uncomfortable chair in front of his desk, as if she was merely there to ask about an assignment and not picturing him bending her over the desk and ramming into her until she blacked out. He had smelled of sandalwood, herbs, and man. She just vaguely remembered presenting her case and propositioning him but could recall with perfect clarity the shocked and disgusted look on his face.

She had stood and turned towards the door, dejected, mumbling something about making a mistake and I’m oh so sorry, but she had barely put her hand on the knob when she found herself pressed forcefully against rough stone, magically divested of her clothes and full to the brim with Severus Snape’s deliciously thick, almost painfully long prick.

Hermione smiled at the memory of what came next and slowly ran her hands up her stomach and to her sensitive breasts, tweaking her nipples lightly and relishing in the sharp sting. She had fantasized about his hands before. Nothing specific and certainly not because they were _his_ hands per se. But they were rather elegant, with long fingers and a delicate bone structure. They were talented and when he brewed, which she had rare occasion to see as he demonstrated a technique for a classmate, they were like magic. So she had fantasized about what magic those hands could do with her body. Now she knew and her body remembered and craved more.

Her nose picked up a slightly bittersweet aroma and she recognized it as her own arousal mixed with the dried mess from her previous activities. She wanted to explore further. She wanted to bury her fingers in her cunt and diddle herself until she came moaning his name. But she didn’t want to remove his mark from her body. He had challenged her to take him, all of him, and she would meet that challenge. So she buried her hands in between her legs, protectively cupping her sex, sealing his seed on her body, and fell asleep, dreaming of tomorrow for once instead of reliving the last year.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, down in the dungeon, the Potion’s Master was seated in front of his fireplace, glass of Lagavulin single malt pressed to his lips and black eyes trained on the flames, yet seeing nothing. He breathed in the slightly medicinal smell but didn’t take a sip. He never did. He hated drinking, associating it with his abusive muggle father and a loss of control that he couldn’t afford, even still with both of his masters dead and gone.

                But when his days were tough and he found he really wanted to get pissed and just let it all go, he would pour a dram, sit, stare, and sniff. He prided himself on how long he could hold out before throwing the scotch, glass and all, into the fireplace and watching the flames shoot up while cursing his father, Dumbledore, Potter, Black, Voldemort, and anyone else that he could think of. Tonight was definitely a Lagavulin night, so much so that he hadn’t bothered to dress before reaching for the bottle and sat skyclad, sprawled inelegantly across his couch.

                He had fucked a _student_.

                He had _fucked_ a _student._

                _He_ had _fucked_ a _student._

His student. His least favorite student out of a long list. The annoyingly insufferable, bushy haired, buck-toothed, know-it-all golden girl princess of Gryffindor, brains of the Golden Trio and heroine of the wizarding world, Miss Hermione Fucking Granger.

Fuck.

Fuckity _fucking_ fuck.

                Objectively, Severus acknowledged that she had certainly outgrown the bushy hair and had long since fixed her teeth, not that he was in a position to judge either hair or dentition. And, if he were truly being objective, she wasn’t as insufferably annoying as in years past. Her hand rarely shot up into the air, at least in his classroom, and she had apparently learned to hold her tongue during her year on the run. After their activities and her reactions to his baser, darker urges, he realized that he should have probably taken her recent personality transplant a bit more seriously.

                Thinking about her tongue was a slippery slope down recent memory lane. The knock on his office door had been unexpected. He had kept regular office hours since his first year of teaching but his reputation afforded him a few hours of peace as he rarely had visitors. On this particular evening he had been grading truly dismal fourth year essays and had just finished one that rambled so far from the point he would need a map to find his way back. He had a pounding headache, what he was sure was an ulcer in his stomach, and a twitch in his left eyelid when he heard the subtle _knock knock knock_.

                In no mood for any sort of conversation he had opened the door, hoping to intimidate whichever poor soul had dared to try and actually make use of his office hours, only to come face to face…well, sternum to face with the little swot herself.

                “Miss Granger, to what do I owe the dubious honor of your presence?” he snarled.

                “Sir, it is most urgent and rather, um, delicate. May I come in?” the petite witch had asked, most politely.

He was about to slam the door in her face when he noticed her eyes. While she stood calmly in front of him and her voice had been sure and steady, her eyes were anything but. The hazel was almost completely obscured by her blown pupils and a haunted look lurked behind the irises frantically darting up and down the hall, to the door, past it, back out again. He stepped very slightly to the side and she rushed forward, as if at any moment he might change his mind.

She sat gracefully, spine straight and chin held high, clearly on a mission and not to be deterred. He left the door slightly ajar, for propriety’s sake, he told himself though really it was so she might get the idea that she could leave, and the sooner the better.

“Have our interactions thus far given you the impression that I am a patient man, Miss Granger? I can assure you, I am not.” _Please for the love of Merlin say your piece and go._ If only he had known what her piece was going to be.

The girl began to ramble. “ _Blah blah blah,_ always in control, _blah blah,_ Hermione will help even though she has the same homework we do but do they ever think about that, _blah blah,_ tired of being the one with all the answers, _blah blah blah_ feel like I’m going crazy, _blah blah_ need you to fuck me.”

Well that had certainly gotten his attention. First and foremost because he wasn’t sure the prudish bint even knew any profanities let alone used them in conversation. And with a teacher, no less. And then the rest of the sentence caught up to him.

“I must have misheard, Miss Granger,” he drawled slowly. “Please repeat that last bit of utter lunacy.”

“You see, when I need to escape my own brain I used to turn to George but that’s over and I’m really rather desperate. Not just anyone would do, you know. I know you enjoy control and power, that’s what they promised you, right, to get you to join them, and I want to give that to you. I want you to take that from me. I need a way to stop thinking. Please help me stop thinking, Professor. “

Normally, he was quite quick on the uptake. When he wasn’t thrown completely for a loop, that was. The stick-in-the-mud, buttoned-up, never the slightest centimeter trimmed off the length of her skirts Granger was propositioning him. What’s more, it sounded quite like she wasn’t propositioning Professor Snape, but rather Severus Snape, the Death Eater. He was disgusted by the idea that a muggle-born such as herself would willingly fuck someone they thought wanted their entire species eradicated or enslaved. Who hated themselves so much to stoop so low? Besides himself, of course, but that was a can of worms that would remain very firmly shut, fuck you very much.

His disgust must have shown on his face because next he knew she was headed for the door. He found himself angry, inexplicably and unequivocally. How dare she? He had sacrificed everything for her and others like her, like Lily, nearly dying in the process, and it made no difference. All she saw was the Death Eater, the persona. That was all he was worth in her eyes? So be it.

He wasn’t proud of what he did next, regardless of how things turned out. The fact of the matter was that even if she had said _no_ , he was going to take her. He was going to be the Death Eater she thought he was and for once, damn the consequences. The thought alone hardened him. He _evanescoed_ their clothes, shoved her into the wall, canted her hips and slammed himself into her. He was expecting her to be dry as the Sahara, not truly aroused by him, and thus _knew_ that his brutal intrusion was going to be very painful for the girl. He cared not. He was not in control, as she had begged of him. In fact, he was quite out of it.

He needn’t have worried, even if he had been inclined to do so. She was so wet he almost expected a puddle to form at her feet. She was slick, tight as a damn fist, and so hot he felt for sure her pussy was branding his cock. Just remembering it had his dick swelling and hitting him above his navel. He glanced ruefully down at his erection, a bit impressed with his own stamina since he was pretty sure up to that point that the witch’s willing cunt had wrung out every last drop of sperm he had in him and he wasn’t going to be rising to the occasion for quite some time.

Not one to waste an opportunity to indulge, he wrapped a long-fingered hand around his stiff member and slid further down on the couch. He pulled up the image of Miss Granger on her back, nipples swollen and red as berries, his handprint around her neck, hair wild, face slack, and pussy dripping with _his_ seed, _his_ mark. Pumping his fist up and down his length, he let his remarkable skill for recall work for him and lost himself in the memory of her tight, spongy walls, bouncing tits, and truly filthy moans.

He wanked himself to the rhythm of her moans, speeding up when she had nearly reached orgasm, slowing down when he had brought her back from the edge, building back up, up, up, and teetering over with a deep groan and a painfully tight grip on his sensitive head. Having spent himself so fantastically within the witch very recently, there wasn’t much to clean up. A quick _tergeo_ set him to rights and, finally relaxed and exhausted enough to sleep, he conjured a blanket and dropped off still sprawled wantonly across his couch.


	3. Repercussions and Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and Hermione's return to the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty goodness. Dominance and Submission

Chapter 3: Repercussions and Rewards

                _Ouch_. The first thought that rushed through Hermione’s head was that she was sore. Not the kind of sore that comes after hard work. Not the kind of sore one might feel after a good game of Quidditch or a run around the lake. This was the kind of sore that had her curling in on herself and breathing deeply through her nose. Her entire body hurt, like every muscle she possessed was cramping at once. It was a _crucio_ she had all but inflicted on herself. With a groan, she _accio’d_ her wand and summoned a bottle of pain potion kept on hand for her monthlies.

                Waiting for the potion to kick in, she thought about the man who had probably brewed it for the hospital wing. She was intelligent enough to realize why he had misunderstood what she wanted. Of course, she had been a bit frantic whilst speaking to him, nervous and terrified of being rejected in that velvety purr of his, and so had been speaking faster and more disjointedly than she was famed for.

                She supposed she should have been concerned that he had fucked her thinking she wanted to be debased in such a way, screwed by a Death Eater, the type of person who thought her kind was lower than dirt, unworthy and disgusting. How little she must think of herself if that was what she actually wanted. She wasn’t sure her reaction to him dispelled him of that idea. She hoped her words had, if the truly wanton way she had begged for his cock and the small lake of sticky arousal she surely had left behind hadn’t.

                And what a cock it was, too. She wasn’t sure what she expected in that regard. He was rather tall but extremely thin so maybe a prick to match. She hadn’t really thought about it. She thought that maybe she should have counted herself lucky. He clearly had _not_ been saving himself for 20 years considering his skill and stamina and his cock was simply perfect. It was a bit longer than average and quite a bit thicker. George wasn’t exactly small, though he was longer as opposed to thicker, and she had managed to see enough of Harry’s and Ron’s while living in a tent to know that there was a wide range of what a prick could look like. Ron’s seemed fairly average, odd considering his towering stature, and Harry’s…well, if his size while flaccid was anything to judge by, Ginny was probably _highly_ satisfied and highly motivated to keep the pain potions well stocked. Severus Snape fell perfectly in between, long enough to bump her cervix, thick enough to fill her up and stretch her almost past her limits, and slightly curved upward, which guaranteed he bumped her g-spot quite regularly.

                Thinking about his perfect prick was getting her wet. She wanted desperately to touch herself but restrained herself with thoughts of what Snape would do to her if she was a good girl and followed his instructions. She wanted to wear his scent. She wanted to please him. She wanted the mind-blowing, blackout-inducing, back-breaking orgasm she knew only he was capable of giving her. With that in mind she prepared for the day, thanking Merlin, Morgana, God, and the sweet baby Jesus that it was a Sunday and she wasn’t expected to attend potions classes. How she would have made it through his class without falling to her knees and begging him to take her, she didn’t know, nor did she want to think about it. Though the looks that would surely be on her classmates’ faces when they finally realized she was not some paragon of virtue might be worth it.

                Hermione took the time to plait her hair, thinking it made her look older and more sophisticated. She never wore make up and wasn’t about to start now, rationalizing that it would all melt off anyway once the sweat started rolling. _Please, God, let the sweat start rolling._ She did employ a glamour to cover the rather alarmingly purple handprint spanning her throat. She contemplated wearing a skirt, for easier access, but rejected the idea for two reasons; one being that she didn’t want him to think of her as a student/child and the only skirts she owned were part of her uniform, and two because she hadn’t bathed and knew that she was probably quite pungent. While she wanted to wear his scent, she didn’t necessarily want to advertise to the entire school that she had been recently pounded into oblivion and didn’t bother washing up afterwards. She put a bit more thought into her undergarments until deciding she would most likely end up naked by magical means and he wouldn’t see them anyway. Plain white cotton would do.

                Dressed simply in leggings, oversized jumper, and low boots, Hermione set out for breakfast, hoping to see her…professor? Lover? Dominant?...in the Great Hall. Her hopes were answered as he sat in his usual seat at the head table, picking at his plate and very studiously ignoring the ramblings of Professor Trelawney to his left and the quiet conversation between Ms. Pince and Professor Sprout on his right. Hermione sat in her usual spot, not wanting to draw attention to herself should she suddenly, after six years, change her seat just so she could see her…lover?...better.

                Digging in to a breakfast of porridge and fresh fruit, she half-heartedly listened to excited tales of Quidditch practice, lamentations over homework assignments, arguments over the benefits of hair potions over hair charms, and the grumblings of those who weren’t human until after their first cuppa. Her ruminations were disrupted by the feathery brush of legilimency against her mind. She didn’t know that was what it was, of course. Snape was, after all, the best in the world. She just had a brief feeling of being watched, like when you know someone is staring at you but you aren’t quite sure who, and as she was quite used to being stared at and fawned over, she mentally shrugged it off and returned her attention to her breakfast.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Severus sat in the same seat he had occupied for 20 years of teaching, eating the same food, and thinking the same general thoughts. He was tired. Teaching wasn’t exactly his calling and he truly didn’t care for children. His days were monotonous and though he was glad the dark times were over and he no longer served two masters, he was, frankly, bored. He might not have enjoyed his role as spy but at least he had purpose, a reason for waking every morning. Now? His encounter with Miss Granger the previous evening was the most exciting thing to happen to him in months and also the most frightening, hands down. Because, though he was bored and he despised teaching dunderheaded children a subject they had no appreciation for, he also knew that Hogwarts was the only place he had truly felt was home since he was eleven years old. He wasn’t sure what he would do with himself if Minerva found out about his indiscretion and he managed to actually survive the inevitable confrontation.

                Indiscretion. Was that really what his brain was going to call what he had done last night? He could think of a few more appropriate terms, clusterfuck of epic proportions topping the list. Tantamount to rape, saved from being so only because the silly witch apparently enjoyed that sort of thing. Or did she? Maybe she was right then running to the Headmistress, demanding her Auror friends be summoned. Maybe she had come to her senses once he had left the room and Minerva was simply allowing him one last meal before she _avada’d_ his ass. He probably should have been concerned with how wholly unconcerned with dying he was. If the last few months of safety and peace had bored him to the point where he no longer cared whether his days were to continue, he shuddered to think what years of this would do to his psyche.

                He was contemplating how he might explain it all to the old witch, confident in his abilities to deceive the Gryffindor after having spent years deceiving the greatest legilimens to ever lose his goddamn mind, split his soul into pieces, and make it his mission to murder…oh…say…everybody, when he caught sight of a familiar head of brown curls, already escaping the intricate looking braid she had attempted to wrangle them into. He surreptitiously watched the young woman go about eating breakfast casually, as if the previous night hadn’t happened. Or it didn’t affect her. Which annoyed him, actually. To think that he was worried about his future employment at the least and his life at most and she was going about her morning as if she hadn’t a care in the world. He had to know, one way or the other.

                Slipping into her mind was simple enough, for him at any rate. He searched her feelings, looking for remorse, disgust, anger, fear, any tendril he could grab onto and follow back to determine her true thoughts about what had transpired between them. Nothing. He looked deeper. Nothing. He pushed even deeper. There. There was…anxiety…worry…not strong enough to be called fear but worth looking into.

                Severus fell into a fantasy. Well, bits and pieces of several fantasies. It had to be fantasy because he featured prominently in each scene but they were not any that he had corresponding memories of. To say that he was shocked would be an understatement. It seemed Miss Granger had quite the imagination. He wasn’t sure that, even with his experience, he knew how to do some of the things that were floating around in her mind. He was intrigued with the mental image of her body crisscrossed with red ropes and suspended from the ceiling, but concerned about her apparent desire to be whipped until she passed out. He would have to address that with her, if their…association…were to continue. He stayed awhile trying to determine what part of the fantasy was causing the spike of anxiety he had followed. A stray thought brushed across his mind, giving him the answer he sought, but not the answer he was expecting.

                _What if he turns me away? What if he didn’t mean it, that I should come back? I don’t know how much more of this I can take before I go completely mad!_

                Severus grabbed onto the thread of thought and let it pull him deeper into her mind. There it was. There was a tangled ball of golden yarn, knotted tightly around a seething mass of gray and black anxiety. Severus plucked at the threads until he got enough loose to slip a bit into the dark matter.

                A barrage of fears and insecurities swamped him. She worried about her parents, about her dunderheaded friends moving on and leaving her behind, about never truly finding a place to belong in the wizarding world or the muggle one, and about eyes filled with hero worship when she definitely didn’t feel like nor want to be a hero. Mostly, though, she worried about his rejection and how she would possibly cope if she had to go back to living inside her own head. She really did want…no, _need_ … something to help her stop thinking. The girl’s survivor’s guilt and depression were like a steadily rising tide threatening to rise above her head and pull her under.

                Answers found, Severus pulled himself from her mind, eyes focusing once more on the here and now. He rose from his seat with his usual grace and silently slipped from the great hall, much to contemplate and many preparations to make for the inevitable knock on his door that evening. If Miss Granger wanted him to take control, to exert his command over her and make her decisions for her, well, he did have a duty to protect his students, even if that meant protecting them from themselves.

                The rest of his day was spent making arrangements and ensuring all was in order. It took quite a bit of work to train a submissive. He felt that Miss Granger was going to be a difficult pupil and he looked forward to the challenge. His first order of business was to transfigure some red rope.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Hermione’s day was fairly uneventful. Except for her brief glimpse of Professor Snape at breakfast, she had seen neither hide nor hair of him all day. It made her anxious to think he might have left the school and she might find herself standing outside his empty quarters, aching and empty and alone with her memories. She entertained the thought of avoiding the possibility of rejection, humiliation, and disappointment by cutting her losses and returning to her dorm but the deep throbbing in her cunt put quick end to that line of thinking.

                Snape hadn’t told her a time to return. She fretted about that for a moment. She had gone to him around nine that evening, at the tail end of his office hours so as not to arouse suspicion. Mayhap he meant for her to return at the same time. There were no office hours on Sunday, however, and it would be suspicious indeed for her to be walking down to the dungeons at that time of night. If she were to go following dinner she ran the risk of running into a throng of Slytherins on the way back to their common room for the evening. A mere half an hour after dinner, the halls would be fairly clear and she could cast a simple disillusionment spell on the off chance she did happen across another student. Such a spell was too easy to spot to work against a large crowd but subtle enough that a single student probably wouldn’t notice the slight shimmer.

                Decision made, she headed towards the library immediately following dinner, sure that nobody would think twice about her doing so. Being a swot had its advantages sometimes, too. Nervously casting a _tempus_ every few minutes, she sighed in relief when her chosen time finally arrived. Walking as nonchalantly as possible, she made her way down to the dungeons, managing to avoid detection, until she stood before Professor Snape’s office. Heart pounding and breathing quick and shallow, she hesitantly knocked on the door, starting somewhat as it swung open of its own accord.

                Squaring her shoulders as if heading into battle, and really wasn’t that what she was doing, Hermione entered the darkened room. Glancing around with more confidence than she actually felt, she frowned to see it completely empty. Or so she thought. She squealed embarrassingly when a large shadow separated itself from the wall.

                “Professor?” she asked, hoping it was but reaching for her wand just in case it wasn’t.

                “Kneel,” slithered across her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

                Remembering his words from the previous evening and not wanting this to end before it began, Hermione sunk to her knees, wincing as her scraped knees hit hard stone. She sank back until her rear hit her heels. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she wrung them together in her lap. Warily, she watched the Snape-shaped shadow in the corner of the room.

                The shadow moved closer, the candles along the walls flaring to life and illuminating the enigmatic man in all his glory. And he truly was glorious. Her breath caught as she took him in. He stood tall in simple black slacks and button down, also black. His customary frock coat and cravat were nowhere to be found and Hermione had a hard time processing the sight. He was still in unrelieved black, still Snape, but somehow more while wearing far less. The most shocking detail of his appearance was, without a doubt, his hair. It was pulled back into a queue at the nape of his neck, drawing attention to his sharp cheekbones, prominent nose, and chiseled jaw line. He wasn’t handsome and never would be but he was striking, memorable, not exactly a good attribute for a spy which was probably why he generally wore his hair curtaining his face.

                He stopped before her and stared down his nose at her. She met his eyes for mere moments before her courage flagged and she dropped her head, chin to chest. As if he had been waiting for that moment, Snape cast _divesto_ , relieving her of her clothes, and slowly circled her still body, close enough that the leg of his trousers brushed against the bare skin of her thigh. Her breathing quickened.

                “Place your hands behind your head, Miss Granger,” he commanded silkily. She hastened to obey. “Spread your knees.”

                Hermione shifted her knees apart, blushing as she caught sight of the wetness on the inside of her thighs and the smell of her filthy quim. She whimpered when his pointy-toed dragonhide boots came into view, one slipping between her quivering thighs and forcing them just a bit farther apart. The point of his boot brushed her pussy lips as he pulled his leg back and she involuntarily canted her hips toward the contact, seeking more, more, more.

                “When you come to me, you are to present yourself just. Like. This. I want you meek, wet and waiting for my command. Understand?”

                “Y-y-yes,” Hermione stuttered.

                “Yes, _what?_ ” Snape growled.

                Hermione whimpered again as her cunt spasmed, grasping at emptiness. “Yes, Professor.”

                “Not here, Miss Granger. Here I am not your professor. You will call me ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’ and you will speak _only_ when spoken to and when I _permit_ it. You will do exactly as I say, without question or hesitation. If you cannot meet these requirements, say so now.”

                Hermione remained quiet, afraid that anything she said would be interpreted as not following the rules, since he had not asked her a direct question. She heard him hum in approval and her body responded to even that small hint of approval from him by releasing another wave of wetness.

                “You do respond so well to praise, Miss Granger. I can smell you all the way up here. I am pleased that you followed my commands from last night. I promised a reward and I shall deliver. A man of my word, remember?”

                Hermione’s spine straightened in anticipation. She was so aroused and his deep voice was pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. She needed to come. Soon. She was so ready for her reward. It took all of her will to remain still. Her arms hurt. Her knees ached. Her pussy positively vibrated on its own.

                “I am going to teach you, Miss Granger. The fine art of submission. I suspect you will fail rather spectacularly. Again and again. I do so look forward to. Teaching. You. Your. _Place_.” Her cunt clenched in time to his words and she mewled somewhat akin to a kitten. “Your first lesson has already started. I am going to ask you questions and you will answer them fully and honestly. Any prevarication, any omission, and I will know. The lesson will end. I will _obliviate_ all trace of the last 24 hours from your mind, and we will continue on as teacher and student. Understand? You have my permission to answer, Miss Granger.”

                “Yes, Master,” Hermione replied, a bit disappointed that his reward wasn’t a hard and fast fuck but excited about the prospect of submitting to him. That was what she wanted, to give up control. “Please, teach me, Master.”


	4. Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus come to terms...somewhat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. BDSM. Seriously explicit.

Chapter 4: Limits

                Severus quirked a brow at her choice of address. He had given her the choice of “Master” or “Sir” as a test to see how deep her desire to submit to him went. Her choice of “Master” was telling. He couldn’t deny that hearing her call him such sent his cock jumping in his trousers. Fortunately, he was quite adept at ignoring his own needs when necessary.

Everything he was doing was a test of her resolve. He deliberately had her sit in the most uncomfortable position he could have. Her arms would quickly tire, her legs would go numb and her neck would cramp. He wanted to see how long she would sit in that position, still, quiet, meek, the epitome of everything she _wasn’t_.

He also enjoyed the view. Her ripe breasts heaved with each strangled breath she took, pert little nipples hardened to diamond points and begging for his attention. He could see a light sheen of sweat all over her body and a glisten of white cream at her cunt. He knew that her position had that beautiful pussy hanging in the open, the chilled air of the room stimulating her clit and coaxing it out of its hood. He cast a quick _scourgify_ , wanting to be able to accurately judge her arousal by smell and not wanting the aroma of their previous encounter to impede him.

He had given her an almost impossible task, for her anyway. To only speak when given permission. To not ask any questions. To tell the entire truth. He wanted her to fail. He wanted to show her what she was getting into. He wanted her to realize that she didn’t want what she thought she did because who in their right mind would willingly want _him_ to do the things to them that she thought she wanted him to do to her? And, Merlin, how he wanted to do them to her. Repeatedly. And with relish. He wanted her ass bouncing over his knee, striped red from his hand. He wanted his mark on her neck, her tits, everywhere he could sink his teeth, run his tongue, or spend his seed. He wanted her cream on his fingers and tongue, coating his cock and dripping down his balls. He wanted her bound and gagged, collared, plugged, writhing, screaming, crying and begging. But he couldn’t get what he wanted unless he gave her the opportunity to fail. So he began.

“How many sexual partners have you had, Miss Granger?” Severus asked. He waited with bated breath to see if she would respond. When she remained silent, he pressed for more. “Your cunt was exquisitely tight. I would guess you have had few partners or your partners were not very well endowed. You mentioned someone named George. Weasley, I presume,” he queried. “I am surprised. I thought it was the younger Mr. Weasley who had captured your eye. Or maybe you have dipped quite extensively into that gene pool. Have you sampled them all in turn, given each access to your warm, wet hole to see which would suit? I wonder which of the ginger idiots pleased you more.”

He watched her body tremor and smirked. She was almost literally bouncing with the need to answer him. Still, she kept silent. He hadn’t given her permission to speak. He would have to work a bit harder it seemed.

“Was it Ronald or George who popped your cherry? Or perhaps Mr. Potter holds that honor. If I wasn’t so certain your ass has only ever been claimed by me, I would think that your time in the woods in the company of both men was spent much more pleasurably than my time here. Tell me, did you fantasize about being claimed by those two? Mayhap you traded off, or sucked one off while the other reamed that greedy little snatch.”

Without warning, Severus shoved the pointed toe of his boot into the young witch’s dripping pussy. He was pleased when she pressed her hips forward, seeking the pressure of his boot on her clit. “Look at how greedy your twat is, Miss Granger. Do you want to fuck yourself on my boot? You may speak, Miss Granger.” Severus hoped this would be her first failure and waited in rapt anticipation.

“I have had two sexual partners, Master,” she began breathily. “I gave George Weasley my virginity, Master. I never fantasized about Ron and Harry as the bond I share with Harry is that of siblings and, God, yes, I want to fuck myself on your boot, Master.”

Severus was impressed and irritated in turns. She had managed to hold her tongue until he gave her permission to speak, only answered his direct questions, and did not ask any of her own. And she remembered to call him ‘Master’. Apparently, her status as a swot extended to her sex life as well. He wondered if she had evaluated George Weasley’s performance and corrected his technique in that holier-than-thou tone of hers. Thinking of her voice reminded him of how she responded to his. Inspiration struck.

“Good girl; you remembered the rules. I reward my good girls, Miss Granger and so I give you a choice. You may lower your arms _or_ you may _fuck yourself…_ on…my…boot. If you lower your arms, our lesson is concluded. If you choose the fucking, we will continue our…conversation. Afterwards. Decide.”

He expected her to break and drop her arms. Any other woman would have. It was a testament to his self control that he didn’t flatten her to the ground and fuck her into next week when, instead, she immediately started grinding her pelvis down onto the top of his boot, rolling forward and back until she found just the right angle to hit her clit and stimulate the opening of her hot passage. Her movements became increasingly jerky and her breath started to come in spurts and gasps. She was close. Perfect.

“Stop,” he commanded in what was little more than a whisper. He didn’t think she would be able to but she defied his expectations. Again. Her lithe body ceased all movement, and though she whined reminiscent of a puppy denied a treat, she did not otherwise protest. “Good. You are such a good little slut, aren’t you? What a wanton little trollop you are, fucking a man’s shoe. I must admit, I expected you to lower your arms. You have surprised me, Miss Granger.

“Let’s continue. As much as I would love to see you come all over my favorite pair of boots, we must establish some…limits…to our interactions. I am pleased with you, my good girl. You may lower your arms.” Severus immediately regretted the change in position. Her hands dropped into her lap, effectively covering her quim from his gaze. “Palms flat on your thighs, Miss Granger. Don’t hide that juicy snatch from me.” She immediately complied. “I am going to discuss specifics with you, Miss Granger. For the sake of expediency, you have permission to answer yes or no until I revoke that permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” came the immediate response. Her voice was strained from being taken so close to the edge and then pulled back. He estimated she would break before their conversation was over and he couldn’t wait to punish her for it. He let his voice drop an octave, pure seduction lacing his every word.

“We will start with bondage,” Severus began, knowing from her fantasies that the idea turned her on and hoping the discussion would prove too much for her. She squirmed just a bit. “Are you amenable to having your hands restrained?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Behind your back? In front? Above your head? To furniture such as bedposts or chairs? Other sexual devices such as a pommel horse?”

“Yes, Master.” She squirmed a bit more and her voice had dropped to a husky moan.

“Legs restrained? To furniture, etc.?”

“Yes, Master.” A puddle was forming under her pussy.

“Using ropes? Silk scarves? Ribbons? Manacles? Spreader bars? Leather or metal cuffs?”

“Yes, Master.” She was mewling again and panting.

“Blindfolded? Gagged? Deprived of your sense of hearing?”

“Yes, Master. Yes, Master. No, Master.” Her hips rolled and her stomach quivered. Her fingers clutched at her naked thighs.

“No? You have my permission to explain that response, Miss Granger,” he granted in his silkiest drawl.

“I enjoy the sound of your voice, Master, and do not wish to be deprived of it,” she admitted, which did not come as a surprise to him; her physical response assured him if that. Her nipples were so hard he was sure they could cut glass and her hips were almost constantly rolling now in small undulations, futilely seeking friction.

“Sensory deprivation enhances the experience, Miss Granger. We shall revisit this at a later time. Do you consent to the use of dildos, vibrators, anal plugs, nipple or clitoral stimulators or clamps?”

“Yes, Master.” Her response was groaned more so than spoken. She was close. He couldn’t wait.

“Do you consent to be _spanked_? With bare hands? Paddles? Belts? Floggers? Whips? The cane?” he purred in his huskiest tone. He was most interested in her response to this line of inquiry as her fantasies featured this quite heavily and he wished to ascertain whether these fantasies were something simply meant to remain fantasy or deeply imbedded in her sexual psyche.

“Y-y-y-yes, M-m-master,” came her stuttering reply as she climaxed at his feet. Her hips bucked and her nails dug bloody furrows into her thighs. Her entire body shook with the force of it.

He grinned triumphantly as he watched her lose control. He had so many plans for that delectable little body starting with the spanking he had just mentioned. He schooled his features before demanding, “Look at me, Miss Granger.”

Her watery eyes lifted to meet his gaze, shutting in a grimace of pain as her neck screamed in protest. When they reopened they were completely blown. She looked to be riding a high much like what muggle drugs might provide. Behind her lust, however, was shame. She had failed and she knew it.

“Tell me, Miss Granger, my first rule.”

“You…you control...control when I c-c-come, Master,” she whispered dejectedly.

“Indeed,” he acknowledged. He swept past her and seated himself at his desk. “Crawl to me, Miss Granger.”

He particularly enjoyed the arch in her back and the sight of her jiggling buttocks as she crawled on hands and knees to where he sat, awaiting her arrival. She resumed her kneeling position once she reached his feet, eyes lowered to the ground and hands behind her head. He reached up and yanked on her hands, bringing her up and over his knees, her head hanging and ass in perfect position for his hand.

“I am going to spank you. I want you to count to five, Miss Granger. This is a light punishment because of your inexperience. Know that in the future, if you are to come without my permission, I will not go so easy. Do you consent? You may nod.” He struck her right cheek before she finished the first dip of her head. He was not gentle. It was a punishment and a test of her limits.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“One, Master,” Hermione squeaked in shocked pain. It hurt but she had endured worse. She would endure worse. She would endure anything he wanted to put her through if it meant she could be as blissfully blank inside her head as she was in that exact moment.

He rubbed her stinging cheek with one elegant hand until her buttocks relaxed. Then he struck again, harder than the first time. _Shit!_                                         

“T-two, Master,” she whined. Her eyes began to water. It was humiliating to be spanked like a naughty child but she craved it. It was confusing and overwhelming.

“You should see what I see, Miss Granger,” Snape drawled. “Such a lovely shade of pink. Let’s try for purple, shall we? Then you might not. Forget. The. Rules.” His hand slammed down onto the curve of her ass cheek, where cheek met thigh.

“Aaargh! Three, Master,” Hermione keened. _Fuck. Piss. Shit. God damn it; that hurt!_ The burning in her ass was only eclipsed by the burning in her pussy. She felt a surge of wetness leak out on Snape’s trousers but couldn’t be arsed to care too much. The pain felt so good. Each strike helped to center her focus on her backside, which meant her mind wasn’t focused on things best left unthought about.

“FOUR! Fuck! Four, Master,” Hermione screamed as the fourth blow landed on the curve of the opposite cheek. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She knew how he was planning on attaining purple. He was going to hit her hard enough to bruise. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he would provide her with bruise paste, either.

“Such a dirty mouth, Miss Granger,” Snape chastised. “I shall have to find a way to clean it out. Perhaps I’ll shove my cock in your mouth. Does your filthy mouth need to be washed out with my come?”

“Yes! Please, Master,” Hermione begged. She would gladly suck his cock dry if it meant she was his good girl and he would reward her again. Maybe he would forget about the last blow? _Holy Mary, mother of God; that hurts!_ “F-f-f-five, M-master.” She was definitely going to be remembering this lesson as the bruises wouldn’t fade for quite some time. How she was supposed to be able to sit her classes, she didn’t know, nor did she care. Her pussy practically gushed warm liquid down her thighs.

Snape shoved her back down to the ground and quickly undid his belt and trousers, pulling out his perfect cock. “Open your mouth, Miss Granger. I want to watch you take me. I’m going to fuck your throat until your tongue remembers nothing but the taste of my cock.”

Hermione had performed oral sex on numerous occasions with George. She knew what he liked and thought she was prepared for whatever was to come. George sometimes got a bit rough when she sucked him off and she couldn’t figure it would be any worse with Snape. Snape was thicker than what she was used to, however and it was hard to fit her mouth around him. She breathed in through her nose, appreciating the musky scent of his skin, and stuck out her tongue, trying her best to swirl it around his thrusting cock. He buried his hands in her hair, bobbing her head up and down on his dick, his head hitting the back of her throat and threatening to gag her. Saliva pooled in her mouth and dripped down her chin and his cock. She tentatively brought one of her small hands up to wrap around the base of his prick and rolled his balls in the palm of the other.

“Good girl, Miss Granger. That’s my good girl,” Snape growled.

She played with him a bit, adjusting her grip, sliding her palm up and down in time to the bobbing of her head, hoping her own hand might help limit the depth of his thrusts. Snape wasn’t going to let her have even that small amount of control. He wrapped her hair around his hands and held her head still, thrusting up into her mouth instead of moving her mouth down onto him. He had better control of the depth and pace that way and used that control to his full advantage. He was truly fucking her mouth, deep, hard, and fast. She tried to keep up with her hands and tongue but struggled, more and more saliva dripping down onto his balls and into his neat thatch of pubic hair. She gave up and let him have his way with her face, concentrating on breathing through her nose and not gagging as his bulbous, mushroom head drilled into the back of her throat.

“Yes, that’s right. I control this. I control you. Give in to me, to this.” Snape’s voice was so low and rough it resembled the growl of a rabid dog more than the voice of a man. Her pussy got even wetter, if that was even possible.

He thrust and thrust, until her lower face was covered in spit and snot and a steady stream of tears fell from her eyes. Her jaw ached and her scalp was screaming for the pressure of his hands to abate before he pulled her hair out. Her hands gripped his thighs, trying to keep herself from collapsing at his feet. She wanted to be his good girl. She wanted to please him. She wanted to be rewarded. She would not fail in this.

After what seemed an eternity, Hermione could tell that he was finally getting close as his thrusts became more erratic, his balls drew up tight to his body, and his breathing sped up. Suddenly he pulled out of her mouth and his warm ejaculate squirted all over her face and chest. Snape released her hair, his hands falling to the side as he regained his composure. She remained in position, salty tears, snot, saliva, and Snape’s spunk dripping down her face and chest and landing at his feet like blood on a sacrificial altar. And wasn’t that what had happened? Had her pride and dignity not just been sacrificed in worship of Severus Snape? She did not delude herself into thinking he would be a merciful and gracious god.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus regained control of his senses, cast a _scourgify_ over himself, and sat back to review his handiwork. She did make a pretty picture kneeling between his thighs, with her face and chest red and white striped like a candy cane. Her hair held not even a hint of the braid it had been in when she arrived. It more resembled a tumbleweed, knotted and snarled from his fingers. Her face was a mess of bodily fluids, eyes closed tight, mouth open and gulping air as quickly as her body could manage. He stared for a moment, sealing the image in his memory to be pulled up later when he desired a wank.

“I’ll mark down face fucking and hair pulling as a definite ‘yes’, shall I, Miss Granger? Between my cum on your face and chest and your juices running down your thighs, I’d say that was _thoroughly_ enjoyable for both parties. I wonder what Weasley and Potter would think if they could see you like this.”

Her reaction was amusing. She somehow managed to convey utter panic without even opening her eyes. Her spine curved, shoulders hunching, so minutely that Severus was sure nobody but himself, as a seasoned spy of 20 years, would have noticed. Her head shook the barest movement left and right, as if she couldn’t control her automatic rejection of the idea but tried anyway.

“No, worries. I. Don’t. Share,” he assured her, amused again at how her shoulders sagged in relief without really moving at all. “Would you like me to clean you now, Miss Granger?” he inquired.

“No, Master,” came her response. She apparently recalled that he had given her permission to answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ until he revoked it.

“No? You may explain your response.”

“I like wearing your mark, Master. Perhaps just my eyes, Master.”

Severus cocked his head to the side, fascinated with the witch before him, despite himself. She was a puzzle. There were so many things he still needed to discuss and hash out with the witch but his cock was stirring and he wanted to bathe her walls with his cum before the night was through. He cast a _tergeo_ on her face and torso and commanded her to open her eyes. The disappointment that lingered there intrigued him.

“I am going to lick every last inch of your body and do not fancy tasting myself while doing so,” he explained, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth to hide his smirk at the anticipation and eagerness that leapt into her eyes. “I want you to climb onto the desk and lay back. You will grab your legs behind the knees and present yourself to me. If you are a good girl and don’t come until I command it, I will lick and fuck you until you pass out from the pleasure. If you…cannot…control yourself, I will spank you until you pass out from the pain. Do you consent?”

In response, the petite witch very deliberately stood, slid backwards onto the desk with her ass barely supported by its sturdy wooden top and her head hanging partially over the other side, wrapped her delicate hands around her still somewhat knobby knees, and spread her legs as wide as she could, opening her glistening, swollen, very pink pussy lips up to his gaze.


	5. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets what she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content ahead. Mention of suicidal thoughts.

Chapter 5: Absolution

Hermione knew she should probably be embarrassed with her wanton behavior and her current position. George had never looked at her _there_ and she most certainly had never displayed herself in such a fashion before. In fact, though she and George had been very active and it often got athletic, it was all rather tame compared to what the professor had already done and made her do. It was definitely tame compared to what was sure to come if she continued her…relationship? arrangement? understanding?...with him.

Yes, she should be embarrassed. Luckily, she was too far gone on endorphins and lust to bother with such notions as shame and humiliation. So she held her body open to his dark gaze, kept her mouth closed lest she say something to bring an end to the exquisite pleasure/pain that was Severus Snape’s attentions, and waited. And waited. And waited.

The longer she waited, the more anxious she became, the wetter she got. Hermione started to squirm. There were miniscule movements of her hips, slight quivers in her thighs, a barely noticeable clenching of delicate fingers. Her breathing sped up until she was practically panting, her breasts jiggling with each shuddering exhale. The sweat gathered behind her knees made it difficult to maintain her hold on them. Her toes started to curl. Her entire body was vibrating in anticipation and if he didn’t do something soon she was going to combust right there on his desk.

She tried to imagine him explaining to Headmistress McGonagall the appearance of a Hermione shaped burn on the top of his, no doubt, antique desk. What was he waiting for? He had told her he was going to give her enough pleasure to knock her out and there he was…just standing there…staring at her. Or was he even still in the room? She didn’t know. She hadn’t heard him leave but he rarely made noise when he moved and she might have missed his exodus. She couldn’t see him. She didn’t dare attempt to look for him, in case he was waiting for such an action so he might punish her again.

Hermione started to get angry. She came here, like a good girl, _smelling_ of _his_ spunk. She followed his _rules_ , _swallowed_ his cock, fucked herself on his _shoe_ for Merlin’s sake, and _gladly_ accepted her spanking. She had _earned_ a reward and he had promised her one. He had promised her the mind-numbing oblivion she was desperate for. How dare he not deliver!

She wanted his tongue on her, in her, licking and sucking. She wanted his teeth marking her and his cock splitting her in two. She needed it. He had promised. She started to growl, teeth clenched and bared in a feral snarl. Her hair started to spark blue in her anger. Just as she was about to sit up and see if her wandless magic skills were still as sharp as ever, he attacked.

His tongue, that deft muscle that could instill fear, inspire awe, and redefine sarcasm, licked from her puckered hole to her clit in one long swipe before swirling around her bundle of nerves and thrusting into her waiting cavern. He lapped at her juices like a cat with cream, stimulating her sensitive clit with his large nose. No other part of his body touched her but no other part needed to. He was voracious. As calm and collected as he always was, moving silently through the halls, face a stern mask, she did not expect him to eat her pussy with as much relish and lack of concern for appearances as he did.

That is to say, he was noisy. Not loud, per se, but definitely noisy. He slurped and sucked, grunted and growled as he tore her pussy apart with lips, teeth and tongue. He made sure his mouth and tongue stayed moist, which allowed for quite a bit of squicking and sloshing as he worked her quim into a puddle of need and slick arousal.

He obviously knew what he was doing. He didn’t just focus on the obvious, though he paid due attention to her engorged clitoris and swollen vagina, swirling, flicking, nipping, sucking, and thrusting exactly how her body craved. He also drew her labia into his mouth and suckled like a babe on his mother’s teat, as if her cunt could provide him with life affirming nourishment. He pressed his tongue against her perineum, massaging it with his thick muscle before circling her rosette and slipping the tip of his tongue inside her back passage, gently thrusting in and out, his nose pressing against her from hole to nub, her entire sexual core stimulated at once.

Hermione dug her fingernails into the backs of her thighs, trying to hold on as her body took on a mind of its own. Her hips bucked and rolled like a roller coaster, her back arched, head thrashed, and teeth bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. The sounds she made would rival a mandrake’s cry… or a torture victim’s. She had no control of her actions as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from her body, daring her to come on his tongue and earn another punishment. The thought of having his glorious cock deep inside her was the only thing that kept her from giving in and creaming down his throat.

She once again found herself crying and begging, a second away from tumbling over the edge into orgasm, when he stopped all movement of his tongue and pulled back. Her body bucked a few more times, cunt seeking stimulation even though her brain knew she couldn’t possibly handle any more without shattering into a million jagged pieces.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                Her pussy was ambrosia on his tongue. She was tangy and sweet and a veritable fountain of nectar with which he could slake his thirst. Severus had meant to lick her slowly, teasingly, sparingly. He enjoyed watching her come undone, waiting for him to make good on his word and lick her entire body. The little twitches and spasms of her body as she tried unsuccessfully to restrain herself intrigued and aroused him. He fully intended to break her and looked forward to watching her lose complete control. One taste of her sweet cream, however, and his own control slipped. He could drink from her forever and never get enough.

                It was only the thought of warm, wet, tight, spongy walls enveloping his aching prick that finally pried his mouth from her delicious quim. He nearly forfeited and gave in to the urge to fuck her as he watched her pussy contract, frantically seeking completion. Her whimpers and whines had his cock weeping and he squeezed the base of his cock, hard, to regain some of his legendary control. He thanked every deity he could think of that he had been a spy for so long and thus was able to deceive Granger into thinking he wasn’t affected by their interaction; that he was in control of his senses and the situation.

                The truth was that he had no idea what he was doing. Not the dominance and submission aspect; he was well-versed in that. He didn’t quite understand why he was so unable to control his urges around this woman-child. He had never lost control during sex. He had never _not_ finished a contract prior to engaging in play. He had never punished a submissive before he had even finished setting the ground rules and discussing hard and soft limits. In fact, he had never fucked a submissive until _after_ the contract had been completed, signed and sealed and a place and time arranged for the first encounter, which would be planned out and staged to the last detail.

                The truth was that Miss Granger was far more in control of him than the other way around, whether she knew it or not. This, he could not tolerate. He had spent too many years under the control of his abusive muggle father, his unrequited love for Lily Evans, a manipulative despot and an equally manipulative…whatever Albus Dumbledore had been. He would not allow this slip of a witch to control him, no matter how unwittingly she was doing so.

                “You taste divine, Miss Granger,” Severus purred, smirking as he saw her pussy spasm once more at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t been lying about the effect his voice had on her. “I wonder if the rest of you tastes as good as that juicy cunt of yours. Let’s find out. You may drop your legs, Miss Granger.”

                He chuckled darkly as she unceremoniously dropped her feet to the desk, knees flopping to the sides, spreading her even farther open to his gaze. Her hands, needing something to hold onto, buried themselves in her hair. She made such a lovely picture of debauchery, another to add to his memory bank. He conjured a blind fold and swiftly tied it over her eyes, tugging her hands out of the way.

                “It is difficult to keep one’s eyes closed at all times. I do not wish to make this task impossible for you to complete. At least, not with such a small technicality. This way, you may open your eyes but your sense of sight is still impaired. Remember, you are not to come. Until. I. Command. It. Do you understand?”   

                “Yes, Master, yes,” she croaked. Her throat must be raw from all of the screaming and crying she had done throughout that night. She was about to do a lot more of that. Severus couldn’t wait. He divested himself of the rest of his clothing, not wanting to analyze why he only did so when she couldn’t actually look at him.

                “I am going to ask you some questions. You will answer them fully. If you lie, or omit any pertinent information, this ends. If you do not wish to answer a question at this time, you will use a safeword. You need to pick two words, one that will mean you are uncomfortable, wary, but willing to continue, and one to mean stop, instantly. If you use the latter, this ends. Immediately. Choose.”

                “Umm…Cr-Cr-Crookshanks to slow down and…Buckbeak to stop.”

                “Very well,” he drawled. “Why do you want to punish yourself? And do not doubt that I am well aware that for a witch such as yourself, giving power to a wizard like me, willingly choosing to submit to physical pain and humiliation, is most certainly a punishment.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                Hermione was shaken. She hadn’t expected him to ask a question like that. She expected more questions about her preferences, limits, desires. She didn’t want to answer. She came to him because she didn’t want to think about this shit. She wanted one damn thing…person…whatever in her life that didn’t demand her soul. She shook her head.

                “Crook-crookshanks, Master.”

                “Already? I thought you were made of tougher stuff, Miss Granger. Let me see if I can entice you to answer.”

                She felt his hands wrap around her left ankle and lift her foot a moment before his mouth enveloped her big toe, tongue swirling around the digit before he removed it with a wet pop. He lavished equal attention to her remaining toes before licking one long swipe up the center of her foot and nipping her heel with his teeth. She didn’t have a foot fetish, and it might have been hard to believe considering what she had already done with him, but this was the singularly most erotic thing she had ever been a part of.

                His mouth didn’t stop. He licked, sucked and nipped her leg from ankle to hip, lingering on the back of her knee and the crease where her thigh and hip connected. He ghosted over her mons, warm breath bringing her clit to standing attention, before repeating his journey, in reverse, to her right leg. By the time her toes popped out of his scorching hot mouth, she was a writhing ball of need, willing to give him anything he wanted as long as it brought an end to her torment.

                “Why, Miss Granger? I still await an answer.” His voice was low, barely a whisper, really, but his words dropped like bombs on her ears.

                “I _obliviated_ my parents, Master,” Hermione answered grudgingly. “Sent them to Australia to keep them safe. They don’t know I exist, Sir.”

                He was silent so long she was sure he had understood what she had not said and was disgusted by her, as he should be. She felt her eyes well up with tears, not of pain or pleasure, but of shame. Then, the barest butterfly kiss against her right nipple. A flick of a tongue. A nip of crooked teeth. Finally, her entire breast was engulfed in the blistering heat of his mouth, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin along the side, his tongue frantically flicking her nipple back and forth and side-to-side before he applied suction, not on her nipple but on the delicate skin along the underside of her breast, leaving his mark.

                As with her feet, her tits were just a starting off point. He dragged his tongue down her ribs to her hip, which he bit sharply, making her cry out at the sting. He left a trail of stinging little bites against the soft curve of her stomach, dipped his tongue into her belly button, and continued up to her left breast, stopping without paying it the same attention as he had her right. The ball of need that began in her pussy had overflowed, making her stomach quiver and her heart lurch, lungs struggling to fill all the way. She needed his mouth on her breast like she needed oxygen.

                “I needed them safe, Sir. And out of the way. So I could focus on Harry, Sir. Always Harry. He needed me. I guess I decided he needed me more than they did because I erased myself from their lives. I don’t even know where they are. I don’t even know if I want to reverse it. I put them in danger just by being me. They’re better off, Master” Hermione admitted. She hadn’t ever said it out loud. The tears flowed freely now, making her face itch beneath the blindfold.

                And as before, he was silent. Then…her left breast got the attention it had been begging for, nipple erect and hard enough to cut glass. He suckled at her breast, lips and tongue rolling her nipple until she was gasping for air beneath him, clutching at her own hair since she had not been given permission to touch him. Each strong pull of his mouth at her nipple sent an echoing tug down to her pussy. He released her breast with a soft groan. Another few minutes of silent anticipation.

                “I slept with George to piss off Ron, Sir. He rejected me, questioned my loyalty when _he_ was the one to leave us in that tent. I wanted to hurt him, Sir. Like he hurt me. How dare he expect me to leave! I couldn’t leave Harry.” Hermione was shaking with the force of her sobs. She didn’t want to reveal her secret shame but she needed his mouth on her body. She needed to prove herself to him. To be baptized by his tongue and his seed and forgiven for her sins, absolved of her guilt.

                Snape’s tongue danced lazily up the inside of her left arm, from pit to wrist, stopping at her pleasure points, nipping here and there, sucking another mark in the crook of her elbow. He swirled his tongue in the center of her palm, the sensations shooting straight to her pussy and causing a deep throbbing. She shrieked when he sucked her fingers into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down the digits, mimicking sex. By the time he had replicated his attentions on the other arm, she was sure there was a puddle of sweat and sticky feminine arousal staining his desk.

                “I did so much to help Harry but at the first bit of real pain I…I…he still needed me and I…” Hermione couldn’t continue. She was too ashamed. She was about to give the safeword when she felt Snape’s hands on her hips. Soon she was on her knees, ass in the air and cheek and chest pressed to the desk, legs spread wide with her Potion Professor’s tongue buried deeply in her ass.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                Severus was feeling a bit smug. He had effectively taken control of the situation, presenting her with a task, building her anxiety up until she spoke just to ease the tension, and easily manipulating her with pleasure so that each time he stopped his ministrations, she gave him more information, seeking her reward like one of Pavlov’s dogs. His tongue in her ass was the ultimate ringing of the bell.

                He alternated between rimming her hole and thrusting his tongue inside her, occasionally snaking his tongue down to her quim to lap at her copious juices and drag the sticky sweetness up to lubricate her back hole. She was squealing reminiscent of a pig within moments and grinding her ass back onto his face. He felt her entire body start to tighten and knew that this was to be her ultimate test and his opportunity to firmly place control back where it belonged, with him.

                “Do. Not. Come,” he commanded, his voice humming against her nether region and making his command rather hard to follow, he would guess.

He didn’t back off this time, didn’t allow her to come down from the ledge before starting again. He dove right back in to his torment of her by dragging his tongue up the cleft of her ass, kissing and biting each perfect globe, licking along each vertebra of her spine, and up to the curve of her neck. He was careful to only let his mouth and nose touch her. He wanted her focused on each small point of her body as he claimed every inch of it, claimed her.

She was a mass of contradictions and he wanted to see which side of her would win. Would she keep control of her body, choosing pleasure as her reward, or would she break, choosing the pain of punishment? Her response would determine how he interacted with her in future and would give a much clearer indication of where her mind was.

He hovered over her neck, breath beating against the sensitive skin there as he waited. He had trained her well in the short time he had been engaged in the lesson. She spoke almost immediately.

                “Please, Master, I need to come,” she begged in a ragged whisper. Her voice was almost completely gone from the havoc she had played on her vocal chords that evening.

He waited in silence. One minute. He licked delicately at the curve where her shoulder and neck met. Two minutes. He dipped his tongue into her ear, so lightly she might have mistaken it for a tendril of hair. Three minutes, he sipped at her jaw, lightly dragging his teeth over the bone. Four minutes.

“I begged her to kill me!” Granger cried. “I wanted to die, Sir. I wanted it to end. I was hungry, and dirty, and tired of running and hiding and not knowing where we were going or what we were doing. I wanted her to kill me, Master, and when Harry came to rescue me…I…I…for a second I _hated_ him. Oh, God, I blamed him and I hated him!”

Satisfied, Severus spread her ass cheeks wide apart with his hands and bit down hard on her neck just as he thrust his cock deep inside her greedy snatch. She screamed and her pussy clamped down around his dick hard enough to hurt. Good thing he was into that kind of thing. He tasted her blood in his mouth and began to greedily suck at her neck, wanting to leave his mark for all to see, to know that this witch belonged to him and any who dared to touch her would face his wrath. He pulled his cock from her vice-like hold and rammed back in, hard and deep, growling low in his throat when he heard her gasp in pleasure/pain.

Severus pulled his teeth from her flesh. “Again. Come again, pet,” he demanded, his voice low and menacing. He gave her the absolution she was looking for, thrusting in time to his words, his bulbous head hitting her cervix over and over again. “There…is…nothing…wrong…with…you. You… did…nothing…wrong. He…would…have…killed…your…parents. Potter … would… have… failed… without…you. Weasley…isn’t…worth…your…time. The…war…would…have…been…lost. You… did… nothing…wrong. Say…it.”

When the young witch merely whimpered and shook her head, Severus pulled out and rolled her onto her back, ripping the blindfold away and forcing her to look him in the eyes by the simple expediency of grabbing her by the hair and throat and immobilizing her head. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut and her face was a bloated red mess of salt, sweat, snot, and tears but to him she had never looked more beautiful. He entered her once more, seating himself as deep as he could go until they were pelvis to pelvis and you couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

“Say it, Miss Granger. You did nothing wrong. Say it and I’ll take you over the edge again. Mindless.” Thrust. “ Numb.” Thrust. “Oblivion.” Thrust. “Until you know nothing but my cock and the pleasure it can bring you. Say it,” he cajoled, “and I’ll end this torment.”

“I did nothing…nothing wrong, M-master,” Hermione keened. “Please. Please. Please. Master, please. I need to…pleeeeeaaaase!”

Her last “please” turned into a high pitched scream as he started to pound into her hard enough to scoot the very old and very heavy desk across the stone floor. He watched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her face going from red to purple as his hand at her throat tightened, cutting off her air supply. He rammed her like a man possessed, reveling in the feel of her molten pussy gripping his cock, sucking him in. He was going to explode, soon, and he wanted to do so as her cunt contracted around him, milking his seed into her nubile body, his cum coating her insides marking her just as his teeth had.

For the first time, he brought his body flush against hers, grunting at the feel of her soft breasts flattened against the planes of his chest. He released her hair to grab her by the knee and brought her leg up and out, allowing him to thrust more deeply. He felt her pussy start to quiver around him as her breath got slower and slower.

Just before she would have blacked out, he put his lips to her ear, loosened his hold on her throat and whispered, “You are forgiven.”

Her orgasm was glorious to behold. Her entire body shook from the roots of her tangled curls to the tips of her unvarnished toes. She nearly bucked him off of her, like a bull in an American rodeo. Her release gushed out in a waterfall over his pubic hair, the tops of his thighs, and down his balls. He roared as he came, hot jets of semen filling her up and flowing freely out as her body clenched so hard it forcefully ejected his cock. The last of his ejaculate splashed onto her swollen and abused pussy lips as he collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath just as heavily as she.


	6. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus takes care of Hermione and things get a bit confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit fluffy...

Chapter 6: The Aftermath

Severus took a moment to catch his breath and then took care of the most important part of his new role; aftercare. He slowly stood, picked up the unconscious witch in his arms, bridal style, and carried her through the door and into his private rooms. He headed straight for the bath, wandlessly turning on the many faucets and adding herbs to the water to promote healing. He did not put anything in for bruises, as he wanted to see his marks on her body for awhile yet. The herbs would help heal deep tissue damage and abrasions, and some of the bruises would fade as a result, but there would still be enough color to mark her as his. Call him selfish.

He stepped carefully into the steaming water, groaning as the heat sank into the sore muscles of his calves, his thighs, and his lower back as he descended the steps into the sunken tub. He was too old for fucking on desks. He would have to plan better for their next scene. He snorted to himself.

 _Scene?_ He thought derisively. _A scene is planned, thought out to the last detail, and, here’s where you fucked up Sev,_ carried out! _What part of what just happened back there was part of the plan? That wasn’t a scene. That was a dirty old man losing his perverted goddamn mind and taking advantage of a broken china doll of a little girl._

Severus sat, the slight witch in his lap moaning as the warmth invaded her aching muscles and the herbs stung her various abrasions. He adjusted her so that her head rested on his shoulder, back to his chest and body seated between his spread thighs. He slouched lower on the built in seat so that the water lapped at her breasts. The ends of her curls swayed and bobbed along the surface, the weight pulling her hair almost straight. He gathered the writhing mass in his hand, twisted it, and tucked it over his own shoulder to relieve some of the tension from her neck. She barely stirred.

Summoning a sponge and his own soap, very aware that it was just another way to mark her with his scent, he began to gently wash her body. He started at her neck and worked his way down, lathering her shoulders, arms, pausing way too long at the angry red slur carved into her arm, before moving onto her breasts and casting a temporary bubble charm over her torso so he could dip the sponge below the water without washing away the soap. He bent her forward over his left forearm so that he could wash her back quickly before laying her once more against his chest.

Her lower body proved just a bit trickier but he finally said to hell with it and levitated her just slightly above the water, perpendicular to his own body, so that he could run the sponge down her legs and up between them. Her body instinctively arched towards his touch as the soft sponge brushed against her sensitive mons. He set the sponge aside and summoned a healing salve. Dipping two fingers into the thick paste, he scooped out a generous amount and slowly smoothed the paste over and around her labia, barely grazing her still engorged clit before gathering more of the salve and thrusting gently, but slowly inside her abused canal and twisting his fingers, ensuring he got every bit of her ravaged walls.

He repeated the gesture at her back hole, in case he had hurt her the previous evening, and then canceled the charm, lowering her back into the steaming bath and washing the salve from his hands. He next used a soft cloth to wash away the grime on her face, putting a bit more salve on her gnawed lips before conjuring a cool cloth to place over her swollen eyes, holding it in place with a sticking charm. She made not a single sound nor did she so much as twitch. Her breathing was deep and even, passing through her slightly parted lips in the soft snore of the truly exhausted.

Severus lifted her and set her beside him on the bench, lowering her head to the ledge of the sunken tub and using a modified sticking charm to keep her from slipping into the water. He quickly and efficiently washed his own body, scrubbing the oil from his hair. He knew what the students said about him. Contrary to popular belief, he did wash his hair quite regularly. Twice a day, in fact. But slaving over a cauldron all day with steam infused with various ingredients wafting through the air would turn even Granger’s hair lank and greasy.

He supposed he should wash her hair as well, though he had no idea how to tackle such a task. Well, why fix what wasn’t broken? He canceled the sticking charm on her body and levitated her once more so that her hair hung down towards the water. He conjured a pitcher and wet her hair thoroughly, needing to section it out to make sure the water penetrated the thick mass. When he tried to shampoo her hair, the curls wrapped around his fingers and wrists, tangling and knotting uncontrollably. After trial and error…and trial and error…he finally found a method that worked. He took small sections of her hair at a time, shampooing and conditioning before setting the section aside and grabbing another.

It took…well, an eternity might be a bit of an exaggeration but by the time he was done and had used the pitcher to rinse her hair once more, his arms ached and he was thoroughly annoyed. The weight of her sopping wet hair bent her neck backwards so he used a drying charm on it, amused as it immediately puffed up to three times its normal size, curls that were usually long and loose suddenly kinking tightly and sticking out in every direction.

He stepped out of the tub, levitating her body behind him before snatching her out of the air in the bridal carry again. He carried her to his bed, drying both of their bodies with a charm, much quicker and more efficient than a towel, to be sure. He hesitated before laying her down on the soft black sheets. Fucking her against a wall, buggering her, forcing his cock down her throat, and eating her from pussy to asshole were apparently acceptable in his mind but allowing a student to sleep in his bed…that was where he drew the line? He would analyze that later. Probably. Possibly. Not likely.

He shook his head, lowered her to the bed, spread her hair out on _his_ pillow, and crawled in beside her before pulling the thick down comforter over them both. He knew from experience that she would be a mess when she woke. Nobody could go through such a soul shattering confessional and not be. As her…dominant?... it was his job to see her through it. So logic dictated that he keep her close. Logic? More like his dick insisted on doing his thinking for him. He drifted off to sleep wondering what it would be like to fuck her in a soft bed for a change. And if his mind pictured that fucking at a much slower pace than usual, who would ever have to know? He certainly would never tell.

The first time she woke, she came awake thrashing her limbs and nearly blackened his eye. It was as if her brain picked up where it left off. Her heart was pounding beneath her ribs and she was almost hyperventilating. He held her tight to his chest, arms between her body and his, head held securely in the crook of his neck, one of his thighs pinning hers down, and shushed her like one might a crying babe. Her tears soaked his chest hair and sobs wracked her body. Severus continued to shush and reassure her, repeating his words, “you are forgiven; you did nothing wrong” until she calmed and fell back into a deep sleep.

He dried her tears with a corner of the sheet, too tired to cast even a small _tergeo_ , set her back on her… _his…_ own pillow, and settled once more into his own exhausted slumber.

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                Hermione woke disoriented. She had no clue where she was but being the rational witch that she was, she didn’t panic. Instead, she took stock, going through her senses one-by-one. Sight was first. She opened her eyes to pitch black. To some, this might not be helpful but for Hermione Granger, _swot_ _extraordinaire_ , it told her plenty. Pitch black meant no windows. She was still in the dungeon, then, since her own room sported a window from floor to ceiling and the dungeon was the only floor of the castle completely windowless save for the Slytherin dorms which apparently looked out _into_ the lake.

                Next came touch. She was on an unbelievably soft surface, her body nearly swallowed by the most luxurious comforter she had ever had the pleasure of being buried in. Her head felt like it was floating on a cloud. She might think she had died and gone to Heaven if it wasn’t for her next sense. Sound. The not-so-soft snoring coming from behind her clued her in that she was very much alive as she doubted Heaven had snoring angels. _Loudly_ snoring angels. Which might explain why she had awakened in the first place.

Her sense of smell gave her the final bit of evidence and told her she was in Snape’s bed. It smelled very strongly of him. She burrowed into that smell, wishing it would seep into her skin so she could smell it always. If she could figure out the essential essence of his scent, she would gladly brew her own line of body lotion. Soap. Shampoo. Cologne. Candles. Laundry detergent? _God, he smells good._

                She didn’t need her sense of taste in this situation, but being the daughter of dentists, she couldn’t escape it. Her mouth tasted stale, as if she hadn’t brushed her teeth before bed. She couldn’t remember doing so. In fact, she couldn’t remember coming into his chambers or his bed either. And, since she was on the subject of memory, her body wasn’t shooting any reminders her way about her activities the previous evening, though she had a slight headache.

                She couldn’t see herself to know whether she was bruised and scraped but she could definitely feel that she was nowhere near as sore as she should have been. Her muscles didn’t ache. Her vagina wasn’t throbbing or torn, as she fully expected. Her throat didn’t feel like ground meat, either. She did have some tenderness, around her throat and on spots she remembered Snape sucking or biting harshly the night before. She didn’t feel sticky and a quick sniff confirmed she certainly didn’t smell as if she had spent hours creaming down her thighs and covered in her Professor’s cum. She tentatively reached up to her hair and was surprised to find it felt clean; the tightness of her coils a sure sign of the use of a drying charm.

                He must have bathed her, healed her, and put her to bed. His bed, to be exact. She was confused about his actions and her own feelings about those actions. What she was not confused about, was her need for the loo. _Now._ She didn’t know where it was and she couldn’t see. There was also the problem that she had no idea where her wand had disappeared to, a fact that should have made her more nervous than it did, and didn’t think she had enough energy to conjure one of her bluebell flames wandlessly. She was going to have to wake Snape up. And wasn’t that idea somewhat terrifying!

                Steeling her nerves and drawing on her Gryffindor courage, she rolled to her side and reached out her hand until she felt cool bare skin in the approximate location of a shoulder. In the blink of an eye her hand was caught in a bruising grip and she was pinned beneath his lean yet incredibly strong body.

                “Sir?” Hermione was a bit frightened, a lot aroused, and still in desperate need of the loo. Her quiet query proved quite effective as his grip immediately loosed and he rolled off of her.

                “Miss Granger, are you alright? Did I hurt you?” Snape asked, concern evident in his tone. It was subtle, but it was there. It was interesting that he was concerned about hurting her after his rough treatment hours earlier. And the night before. Not to mention six years of verbal abuse.

_Hermione, focus because he will murder you himself if you piss his bed. Though he might be into that; some people are. Not you, but we don’t judge, do we? Focus!_

                “I need the loo, sir,” she answered, her use of “sir” in deference to his position at the school and not his position as her…dominant? She really needed to clear that up with him. “I can’t see and don’t know where it is. Sir.”

                “My apologies. _Lumos_ ,” he intoned, a soft light filling the room and revealing an open door, a sunken tub just visible beyond it.

                “Thank you, sir,” Hermione said as she practically jumped out of bed in her haste. She heard him chuckle behind her before she closed the door and made use of the facilities. As she was washing her hands, deliberately _not_ looking at the innumerable bruises and love bites adorning her body, she caught sight of her arm, usually covered with a glamour. It brought back memories of that night and guilt filled her again, barely drowned out by a deep voice offering absolution. She turned away from the mirror, sick of herself, and headed back to Snape’s bedchamber.

                “If you could point me to my clothes, I will be on my way,” she offered, voice full of false cheer. “I’m not sure of the time but I’m positive its way past curfew and there are classes tomorrow and…” she drifted off as she caught sight of his face. He had one eyebrow raised, the only sign he was even paying attention to her. It was the look he gave students when he was waiting for them to realize what dunderheaded idiots they were being.

                “You have a private room and so will not be missed. Your first class isn’t until 10, and it’s with me, besides. Rest assured, I can get you back to your dorm unseen and you can head to breakfast from there. Now, come back to bed before I forget how tired I am and take you up on the invitation you don’t even know you’re extending.”

                And just like that she was wet and aching for him and very aware of being very, very naked. Merlin’s sake, they should figure out how to bottle that voice. They would make a fortune! She would have to write to George. Who she definitely should not be thinking about when there was a very naked, incredibly sexy man mere meters away from her, an obvious bulge beginning to tent the sheets covering his lower body. She rubbed her thighs together before taking a tentative step towards the bed. Snape’s eyebrow rose another inch. Her hips rolled with her next step. She didn’t do it on purpose. Probably. His eyebrow disappeared into his hairline. She moaned at her next step. Definitely on purpose.

                In the blink of an eye she was in the bed, legs spread, Snape’s mouth at her breast and fingers buried deep in her cunt. He brought her to a swift peak but her subconscious wouldn’t allow her to topple over the other side without his permission. She was a fast learner, after all.

                “I can’t…please…permission,” Hermione gasped out between moans.

                Snape didn’t say a word. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, inserting a third finger and curling them inside her. He quickened his pace and strengthened the suction at her nipple, drawing his head back until her nipple was pulled as taut as it could go and rolling it between his teeth. The pain was sharp but it sent an equally intense pull down to where his fingers were playing her pussy like a master pianist.

She came on his fingers and nearly came again when he released her tit to suck his fingers clean before grabbing his truly impressive manhood, positioning himself at her entrance and sliding home. He kept his thrusts shallow but quick, tilting his hips just enough for his cock to hit her g-spot with every single thrust. He sucked on his thumb, and wasn’t that a surreal sight, before dropping it to her clit, circling in time to his thrusts and just like that she was right back on the edge.

Hermione’s eyes were half-closed in bliss, Snape’s form above her going in and out of focus. She grabbed fistfuls of soft sheets, trying to ground herself to the here and now as she felt like she would float away at any moment on waves of pleasure. Her legs twisted, knees bending and thighs shaking as she tried to find purchase and anchor her body under the rapid invasion of Snape’s cock.

“Look at me,” Snape growled. “Look at me, Hermione.”

Her eyes snapped open, hazel meeting black in shock at his use of her name. He had never said her name before and she couldn’t help but wonder what it meant that he was doing so now.

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                Severus didn’t know what came over him. He was crossing all sorts of lines and once again was acting in a way that did not fit the role of Dominant to her Submissive. He wasn’t following his own rules. Eye contact, no commands, no restraints…his own chambers…his own bed…calling her _Hermione_. Wanting to hear his name fall from her full lips. And he was well aware that she had goaded him into fucking her. Topping from the bottom…or from across the room as it were. He needed to reestablish some boundaries, especially within his own mind.

                “Wrap your legs around my waist, witch,” he ordered. Bad idea, he realized as her silky thighs encased his hips and her dainty feet crossed at the small of his back. He was wrapped in her, closer instead of more distant and really wasn’t that the obvious consequence?

                Severus lowered his weight briefly to run his hands up her sides, squeezing her breasts, until he reached her shoulders. He continued his journey down her arms until he could entwine her fingers with his own. He jerked her hands up above her head where he grabbed both wrists in one hand, using the other to lift himself away from her chest, creating a bit more physical distance and hopefully some mental distance as well.

                He lengthened his thrusts, choosing to ignore the fact they also slowed and gentled, though they were by no means slow or gentle. Her pupils blew wide open and her breath caught. He felt the tension in her thighs as they squeezed against his ribs hard enough to hurt.

                “Come, pet,” Severus begged…commanded. And she did. He soon joined her in bliss, what little was left in his balls emptying into her until he was spent, eyes never leaving hers until she couldn’t keep them open anymore.

                Before she drifted to sleep once more a random thought floated across the surface of her mind, easily read without needing to cast _legilimens_.

_I like my name on his lips. I wonder if he’d let me call him Severus._

He looked down into the face of the sleeping witch beneath him, thick lashes like soot against her freckled cheeks, mouth slightly parted, hair a match for her wild spirit, and for a moment he thought…

_No. Don’t go there. Not again. Distance, Sev. Tomorrow, this ends. It has to._

But that was tomorrow. And for tonight, he had a beautiful witch in his bed who wanted to be there. He gently lowered her legs from his waist and positioned them so that she lay, wrapped in his arms, the soft globes of her bottom cradled against his hips and her hair tickling his nose. He placed one hand between her breasts and fell asleep to the lullaby of her heartbeat.


	7. Buckbeak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape tries to get himself under control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets a little rough

Chapter 7: Buckbeak

                The next morning was odd, to say the least. Hermione awoke to find herself alone in the bed, her clothes neatly folded at the end, wand lying on top. She reached across to where Snape had been the previous evening and found the sheets cool to the touch, a sure sign that he had risen well before her. Not wanting to overstay her welcome, Hermione cast a quick _scourgify_ on herself, taking note of the numerous bruises and love bites decorating her body, and then cast a freshening charm on her clothes from the previous evening. As she dressed she took the chance to look around the room she had not been able to really see the night before.

                The bed was the definition of hedonistic. It was large, taking up most of the room, and sumptuously adorned with silky sheets, a heavy down comforter and more giant fluffy pillows than she could actually count, all in rich shades of obsidian, indigo, charcoal, and even eggplant and fabrics like silk, velvet, and satin. The headboard was some kind of dark wood, maybe walnut, and intricately carved with a detailed forest scene, complete down to the tiniest toadstool. If she had seen his bed even three days ago she would have been shocked, unable to reconcile the stern, straight-laced man she knew with the self-indulgent picture his bed presented. Now, however, she thought it fit him rather perfectly.

                On either side of the bed was an equally as intricate nightstand with kerosene lamp situated dead center. A leather-bound book lay haphazardly atop the stand on her side of the bed. Her side? She had a side? At the foot of the bed was a dark trunk she was itching to explore but smart enough to stay far away from sat atop a black high pile rug which stretched across the floor towards a generously sized fireplace; it looked so soft that she barely resisted the urge to roll around on it naked. The walls were covered in tapestries, probably to keep out the chill, and interspersed with medieval looking sconces. On one side was the door that led to the truly decadent bath and an armoire and on the other was a door she assumed led out into the rest of his chambers.

                Dressed, Hermione headed into the loo, splashing her face with cold water and debating if she should cast a cleaning charm on her teeth or use his surprisingly muggle toothbrush which was sitting in a glass beside the sink. She’d had his cock in her mouth, for Merlin’s sake, but the idea of sharing a toothbrush was a bit too intimate for her? She cast the charm, gathered her courage, and stepped through the as yet unopened door, expecting to find her professor and shocked instead to come face-to-face with an elf.

                “Oh! I’m so sorry. I was…um…do you know where…I’ll just see myself out if you could…” Hermione stumbled over her words as the elf just stared at her. “I’m Hermione Gran-“

                “The Master says to be taking you to your room. You is to come with Tibby,” the elf squeaked, grabbing Hermione’s arm and _apparating_ her directly into her room, leaving as quickly as it had appeared.

                “Well… why do I get the feeling he is avoiding me?” Hermione asked herself. “I’m being ridiculous. It isn’t like we’re _together_. He’s my…dominant…not my boyfriend. He did his duty and now it’s back to business as usual until…well, I don’t know until when but I’m sure he’ll let me know...or maybe I go to him? If only I knew more about this…lifestyle…I would know the rules for initiating contact. Well, before I just showed up at his office. I could probably just do that again and odds are he wouldn’t outright kill me so, there’s that anyway. Maybe I’d even get the chance to see more of his rooms than his bed, though I wouldn’t mind seeing _a lot_ more of his bed.”

                Hermione realized that she was pacing and mumbling to herself like a madwoman. Which was nothing new, of course, but the fact that she was debating the merits of arriving unannounced at her professor’s door for some bondage and sex was, in the words of Ronald Weasley, mental. She forced herself to calm down and focus on her classes instead, the first of which was double Potions followed by lunch and then nothing until that evening when she had Astronomy. Most of her work was independent study as she had far surpassed the 7th year curriculum. She cast a quick tempus, noting she had about 30 minutes to get to breakfast and hurriedly changed into her uniform, grateful it was cold and she could cover up with trousers and a jumper, cast a glamour on her neck, and twisted her hair into a top knot before darting down to the Great Hall, telling herself she was not going simply to see if he was there. She had never been much of a liar. It was amazing what skills you picked up when lives depended on it, or your own sanity.

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                Severus was a coward. He woke wrapped in soft, warm woman and his first thought was that he could get used to waking that way. His second was pure panic. He rolled out of bed, dressed with the deft movements and heavy silence he was known for, and made arrangements for the Gryffindor princess’s swift return to her tower room. He needed to get his equilibrium back and he wasn’t going to be able to do that until he had some distance from Her… _her_. He cancelled his classes, no reason given to the students because, honestly, who gave a fuck? He sent his patronus with a bogus message about time-sensitive potions, in need of ingredients, must leave Hogwarts, _blah, blah, blah_ to Minerva. He trusted the castle to keep his secret as it still regarded him as Headmaster, though he wasn’t about to tell the great tabby cat that.

                Robes billowing and face stern as ever, he returned to his office, the scent of sex and _her_ smacking him in the face and hardening his prick instantly. He waved his hand, clearing the air and his head. He bypassed the desk, more than a foot away from its original position, righting it with another wave of his hand, and headed straight for the lagavulin and his couch, divesting himself of frock coat and cravat before pouring three fingers into a thick cut glass and sprawling rather inelegantly across its length, not bothering to put the bottle back.

He slammed the drink back and poured another. Rinse and repeat. He was halfway through the bottle before he felt he could think straight. He had never been drunk before but had never felt more sober. As his eyes fell on the red ropes he had put so much time into the day before, Severus began to plan. He knew exactly how he was going to regain control. A few _accio’s_ and he grinned evilly as he heard the trunk at the foot of his bed open, a neat row of instruments spread out in front of him.

_Yes, I know just what needs to be done._

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                He wasn’t at breakfast. Hermione told herself that he had eaten earlier and was probably preparing his classroom for the upcoming lesson. She ate quickly, nodding here and there as her classmates chattered around her. As soon as she could, she headed towards the dungeons; only to find herself surrounded by students headed the opposite direction, excitedly babbling about cancelled classes. The parchment attached to the door read simply, “Potions Cancelled. Four feet of parchment on today’s assigned potions due by next class” in his signature spiky scrawl.

                Okay. Now she was positive he was avoiding her. What other explanation could there be? Hermione hesitated for about three seconds before swiveling on her heel and heading towards his office door. She might have enjoyed submitting to him sexually, but she was a Gryffindor, and not just any Gryffindor. She was Hermione Fucking Granger and she had faced death since before she had gotten her first monthly. A snarky, controlling, emotionally unavailable, slightly reformed former Death Eater would not scare her away.

                She blew right past his locking wards, too enraged to be delicate about it or even pretend like it was difficult for her. In less than a minute she was standing at the door to his private chambers, hand raised to dismantle the wards there as well. It swung open of its own accord.

                “Miss Granger.” The sinister purr had her shaking with arousal and fear. “Enter.”

                Hermione stepped over the threshold and jumped as the door slammed behind her. So much for Gryffindor courage. A quick glance told her the room was completely bare except for…Snape sat directly across from her in an emerald green wingback chair, leg thrown casually over one of the arms, glass of an amber colored liquid in one hand and…something else in the other. Something he kept tapping against his knee. Next to him, spread across a low coffee table, was a buffet of interesting hills and valleys covered in black silk. He was dressed in black slacks and button down again, sleeves rolled to reveal his dark mark, and his hair was once again tied back in a queue at the nape of his neck. A feral smirk graced his lips. This was not the professor. This was Master.

                Hermione dropped to her knees, hands behind her head, chin to chest, and awaited instructions.

                “I don’t fuck schoolgirls, Miss Granger,” Snape reminded her, voice dripping with disgust.

                Hermione grabbed her wand from the pocket of her robes, cast a _divesto_ and watched out of the corner of her eye as her clothes folded themselves neatly in a pile by the door, carelessly tossing her wand on top before resuming her position.

                “Crawl,” came his command, that one syllable stretched out for an eternity.

                Hermione repositioned so she was on hands and knees and crawled across the cold stones, older bruises throbbing anew at the contact. When she was within arm’s reach of him, he stood, effectively stopping her progress. She didn’t know what to do; stay on hands and knees or resume her submissive pose. She decided to error on the side of caution and sat back on her heels, arms rising towards her head.

“Hands crossed behind your back, Miss Granger, and up on your knees,” Snape drawled silkily.

Hermione did as instructed and soon red ropes were flying around her, commanded silently by her Master. Rope looped around her chest in an intricate pentagram pattern, pinning her arms to her back and framing her breasts perfectly. Another length of rope formed a sort of seat around her hips and thighs, leaving her pussy open for him.

She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to sit back on her heels once more or stay where she was. She didn’t get a chance to do either before one booted foot settled between her shoulder blades, pushing her body down to the ground. She landed heavily, turning her head to the side just in time to keep from landing on her nose. She couldn’t help but think that a cushioning charm would not have gone unappreciated.

“Feet in the air, knees spread.” Snape barked.

When she hastily complied, more red rope wrapped tightly around each thigh, stretching back to connect to her ankles. She also felt rope loop and coil at each cluster of loops between her shoulder blades and at the small of her back. She was effectively immobilized.

“I am going to blindfold you and silence you. Per the limits previously discussed, I will allow you to keep your sense of hearing. I have modified the silencing charm so that your safewords, Crookshanks and Buckbeak, may easily break the spell. Nothing I will do today is outside of the limits discussed yesterday. Do you consent?”

“Yes, Master,” Hermione quickly responded, so turned on she would have even allowed him to deprive her of hearing as long as he didn’t stop.

“Remember, Miss Granger. You. Asked. For this,” Snape hissed before everything went dark.

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                Severus tossed the flogger he had been holding as an intimidation tactic onto his chair, cast a _levicorpus_ and slowly lifted the bound witch until he could grab the four trailing ropes, loop them together, and attach them to the ring he had magically suspended from the stone ceiling. He hoisted her so that her body was about eye level. Then he stood back and admired his handiwork.

                With half her face covered in a blindfold and her body crisscrossed with ropes, he could mentally turn her into another nameless, faceless submissive and distance himself from her. The alcohol had served to both lower his inhibitions and heighten his baser urges, making him feel at once out of control of himself but in need of complete control of _her_.

                He walked around her, close enough that the slight breeze created by his movement would slither across her skin but silently enough that she had no other clue as to his position in relation to her body. He enjoyed the way the blood had already started rushing to the tips of her breasts, flushing them pink and engorging her nipples. The red ropes also looked lovely framing her equally as pink, glistening pussy, on full display for him. He especially liked how the Swiss seat framed each buttock, pushing them up and plumping them for him, perfect for his hand or, soon, the flogger. He really wanted to cane her perfect peach of an ass but would build up to it. After all, he had all day.

                “You look delectable, trussed up like a turkey and hanging from my ceiling,” Severus commented congenially, as if he were having a casual conversation. “Helpless. I could do anything I want to you. I could fuck you, your mouth, your slavering quim, your puckered ass. I could whip you. I could just leave you there like modern art, a conversation piece when I. Have. Comp…any. But…something is missing, still. Ah, yes.”

                Severus whisked away the black cloth and grabbed a small plug from the table. He cast a lubrication charm and sent it magically to insert itself in the girl’s rear, unwilling to touch her lest he lose his tenuous hold on his self-control. He smirked at what miniscule movements she could make as she squirmed a bit as the plug was inserted.

                Severus put one long finger between her eyes and pushed, smiling as her body began to swing slightly back and forth. He moved to stand beside her and on each backwards motion he spanked her. He kept the force fairly light, as he was just getting her warmed up. His blows landed dead center on her bottom, hand spanning both cheeks and pushing against the plug. This lasted for a count of thirty strokes, until her bottom was a bright pink and warm to the touch and her cunt was pulsing open and shut like a rapidly blinking eye.           

                “What a lovely shade of pink, Miss Granger. Your bum perfectly matches your pretty pink pussy now. It isn’t quite as hot, though. We shall have to rectify that.”

He grabbed the flogger from the chair, sent her swinging a little harder, and moved swiftly back to her side, knowing that she would be a bit disoriented. He brought the flogger down on her rounded ass, a stinging bite on one delicious cheek, a bit disappointed when his silencing charm meant he couldn’t hear her gasps, moans, or inevitable screams. He brought the flogger down again on the opposite cheek. He quickly developed a rhythm, top left, top right, bottom left, bottom right, where cheek curved into thigh, swift flick to her pussy lips, back to top left. Having no other sound to go on, he could only determine that she was well because no safeword broke his charm. He wasn’t in a fit state to think to remove the blindfold and look at her face.

                After twenty or so strokes, he dropped the flogger and stopped her swinging motion. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and her rear end was a bright shade of red, heat emanating from the abused flesh. Sweet smelling cream liberally coated her pussy lips and the tip of his flogger gleamed, evidence of her arousal smeared across the leather.

                “You are almost as red as a Weasley’s hair. That was a flogger, in case you were wondering. You might want to remember that, as your positively dripping pussy suggests you enjoyed that one. Let’s try for Gryffindor maroon, shall we?”

Without awaiting an answer, Snape summoned the cane and brought it down across the entire width of the witch’s rear end, right across the middle. He rained down blows, one after another, striping her from lower back to the tops of her thighs until he could barely move his arm and her ass had surpassed maroon and headed straight for purple, skin broken in places.

The sight of her blood penetrated his alcohol befuddled mind and he dropped the cane to the floor, a scream piercing ears that had been deaf to everything but his own pounding heartbeat. As if in a fugue state, his head turned towards the source of the sound, not quite registering the fact that she must have used a safeword to break the silencing charm.

The blindfold was soaked through with what he assumed were tears. Her lower face was an absolute mess of snot and her body was drenched in sweat and convulsing as much as it could bound as it was. He had brought many a witch to this state before and she was just another in a long line. Just another witch. Just another…

Finally, her words broke through the alcohol-induced haze and he stumbled back, sickened with himself.

“Please, stop! Please, stop, please! Buckbeak! Buckbeak! Professor, please, stop! Severus, stop, please. Severus, please; you’re hurting me. STOP, PLEASE, SEVERUS!”

                _Tobias, please, stop! You’re hurting me!_

_Please, Tobias, don’t! You’re killing him!_

_Stop, Tobias, please, stop!_

                “ _Finite_ ,” he gasped, catching the witch as the ropes untied themselves and she fell into his arms, blindfold slipping away and anal plug dropping harmlessly to the floor. “What have I done? Oh, God, what have I done?”


	8. Difficult Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wants answers. And nothing is going to stop her from getting them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a two-parter

Chapter 8: Difficult Discussions

        The ropes around her body, binding her tight and tethering her to the ceiling, were at once uncomfortably tight and incredibly erotic. Their silky feel and the way they highlighted her breasts and womanhood made her feel sexy, cherished. The position was a bit degrading, hanging open for his use like a sex doll, not even human, but she had asked for him to take control and she could certainly attest to the fact that she had none; it all rested with him.

      Being blindfolded was disorienting while also hanging from the ceiling and she was nervous about not being able to make a sound. She was very vocal during sex, preferring to lose her inhibitions and truly experience pleasure as opposed to trying to restrain her passion for the sake of…dignity, pride, propriety. The plug filling her ass was not altogether unwelcome. She found she was starting to like the stimulation and full _ish_ feeling. So far so good. When he set her to swinging she worried only briefly about the strength of her stomach.

      His large hand across her taut rear was a shock. The spanking was not as hard as her punishment the night before but she was definitely glad when she swung backwards and his hand didn’t make contact. She was wet and eager for his cock, curious to know what it would be like to be fucked while hanging from a dungeon ceiling, unable to close her legs against his intrusion or in any way control the sure-to-be-mind-bending experience. She wasn’t exactly surprised when he decided instead to add a bit more color to her bottom. After all, why bother with the rigging if all he was going to do was spank her a bit?

      So, not surprised but a bit disappointed.

      The flogger was a different kind of pain, sharp stings brought the blood rushing to the surface of her sensitive skin and a warm flush covered her body. She liked it. A lot. Especially when that delightful little sting landed on her engorged clit. She was getting close to an orgasm and really wanted his dick deep inside her body when she fell off the edge of bliss. Though, by that point, she would have gladly climaxed solo if he would allow it. When the flogging stopped, she was sure he was finally going to fuck her. The first strike of the cane abused her of that notion quickly.

     Hermione had endured the _cruciatus_ curse, cast by a very competent wand, and so, objectively, she knew that this was not the worst pain she had ever felt. It was a very close second, though. The blows were hard and unceasing. Unlike his hand and the flogger, there was no rhyme or reason to where they landed or when. He seemed to be wildly swinging. When it came down on the small of her back, sending an intense shock of agony down her legs, she canceled the silencing charm with a stuttered “Crookshanks.”

     She was expecting his blows to soften, slow down, cease…something! But they only grew more frantic and intense. She tried to be a good girl. She tried to take it, wanting to earn a reward from him. She didn’t want to fail at her first _true_ test as his submissive. Delaying orgasm, a 5-blow spanking, a little humiliation, and some rough sex were baby steps. This…this was her first real chance to prove how serious she was about this. Her resolve lasted until the next wild blow landed across her spine and then she screamed. She screamed and she begged him to stop. Her safeword spewed from her lips. And still the cane descended.

     When _Professor_ failed to get his attention, she did the last thing she could think of, said the last word he would expect to come from her mouth, a word she felt he probably hadn’t heard often from anyone other than Dumbledore and perhaps McGonagall. She called his name.

     “Severus, stop, please. Severus, please; you’re hurting me. STOP, PLEASE, SEVERUS!”

     Finally, she was freed, caught in his arms, both of them falling to the ground, her body sprawled across his lap, flushed face flat against the cool stone of the floor. Before she could catch her breath he had dragged her up onto her knees, summoned her wand, and pressed it into her palm.

     “Kill me,” he pleaded. “Kill me before I kill you just like…please, you must kill me.”

     Hermione was stunned just as surely as if she had been hit with a _stupefy_. What the fuck was going on? The pain encompassing her entire body made it hard to think straight but she was sure he had just demanded that she kill him. Her wrist was suddenly held in an iron grip, wand pulled forward and thrust under Snape’s chin.

     “Do it, girl,” he ground out between clenched teeth, breath carrying the distinct scent of alcohol and a lot of it. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand? I cannot control myself. I am just… like… him. DO IT!”

     “Stupefy,” Hermione whispered, eyes wide as Snape’s head snapped back, thunking against the floor as he fell. She needed to think.

     Hermione looked around the room, eyes trying but failing to avoid the coffee table adorned with a variety of whips and gags, what appeared to be a full face mask, a number of dildos ranging from average in size to truly scary, some sort of hook, a spiked collar, and a few bars with cuffs at either end.

     She needed to think somewhere else. Anywhere else.

     Hermione crawled across the floor, towards the door leading to his bedroom. Each inch forward brought excruciating pain until she was paralyzed from it. Her wand clattered to the floor and she collapsed in on herself, shaking with the intensity, sobs wracking her body until her tears had all dried up, nothing left but heaving breaths.

     “ _Accio_ dittany. _Accio_ bruise salve. _Accio_ pain potion.” She really hoped he wasn’t the suffer-in-silence type and that the healing he had done on her the night before was potion-based and not some spell he had invented. She didn’t have to wait long as three small vials came shooting through the suddenly open door of his office. She didn’t want to think about why he kept those potions in his desk.

     She downed the dittany and the pain potion and waited until the pain had subsided enough that she could try to rub in some of the bruise salve on her tender buttocks, thighs, and back. She felt the tingle that signified the dittany was working on the broken skin from the caning and chafing from the ropes. She was finally able to take a deep breath and did so as she climbed to her feet, wand back in hand. She dressed quickly and then faced the sparse room.

     Her first order of business was a quick _depulso_ towards the table of torture devices…um...toys. She watched somewhat dispassionately as they made their way steadily to the trunk at the foot of Snape’s bed. The glass of amber liquid sitting so calmly on the mantle where he must have left it seemed to mock her. A _reducto_ and _evanesco_ later and it had shattered into a thousand pieces and then disappeared completely.

     Hermione wasn’t sure what he had done to clear the room in preparation for this scene and so cast _restituere_ , hoping it would restore it to its original state. When _finite, integro, aparecium_ and _reparo_ did not help to refurnish the room she growled in frustration before taking a few calming breaths and deciding Snape could fix his own damn room.

     Finally, she spun on her heel to deal with the elephant in the room. The dark, possibly devolving into madness, definitely drunk elephant currently stunned and slumped in the center of the room.

    “ _Rennervate.”_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Severus registered the shooting pain in his skull first, followed quickly by the familiar agony of shredded shoulder muscles. He knew that pain all too well, though it took him a moment longer than usual to remember the witch he had been beating. He blamed it on what was probably a mild concussion. When memory caught up to him, however, he sat bolt upright, a stupid idea for obvious reasons, eyes wide and frantically searching for _her_. He prayed to God, Merlin, Alla, and even Buddha that he had not killed her like…he shook the thought away, another stupid idea for obvious reasons to apparently everyone but him.

                Retching to the side because, hello concussion, he groaned from the pain, breathing deeply though his nose and squeezing his eyes shut as if that was going to magically cure him. Magic.

                _Sev, you are an idiot._

                Severus tried to remember where his wand was, as he was a bit too debilitated to cast wandlessly at the moment, but honestly couldn’t recall where he had last placed it. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for or take care of his wand…he just had so little reason to use it and knew that it was far more intimidating to his students and colleagues when he displayed his power through wandless, wordless magic.

                Cool hands brushed his hair from his forehead and his eyelids fluttered open to find a pair of big hazel eyes taking up his field of vision. He instinctually slammed his occlumency shields firmly shut, bringing a vision of the Black Lake, deep and still, to the forefront of his mind.

                “Severus, try to focus on my face. I think you might have a concussion.” Her voice washed over him, at once soothing and irritating.

                “Obviously,” he ground out past teeth gritted in pain. “Why?” he asked, memory a bit shoddy thanks to an apparent blow to the head.

                “Well, a concussion is generally caused by…”

                “Don’t be so insufferable.” He was trying to sound intimidating but that was hard to do when your throat was raw from vomiting and your head felt like it was split open. Of course, lying flat on your back in the middle of your sitting room with a mere slip of a witch leaning over you didn’t lend itself to intimidation either.

                “I _stupefied_ you and you hit your head,” came her succinct reply, all trace of comfort missing. “Your pupils are dilated disproportionately; you’ve vomited, which I’ve cleaned up by the way; and it seems you have some memory loss. All signs of-“

                “Yes, I know. Not my first concussion, Miss Granger.”

                Severus tried to sit up but the girl apparently had other ideas. She placed a hand flat on his chest, effectively stopping him in his tracks as he didn’t usually allow such liberties.

                “Don’t move. It’s important that you not move in order to heal. Any jostling of your brain could…”

                “Miss Granger, kindly remove your hand from my person. Are you or are you not a witch? Use that brilliant mind of yours, for once, and _think_.” If Severus could focus long enough, he might have appreciated the flush that stained her cheeks. As it was, she was a great big blur now that she wasn’t mere centimeters from his face. “ _Consano_ , Miss Granger.”

                “Of course, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I should have-“

                “Today, Miss Granger,” Severus interrupted, his patience wearing thinner with each throb of pain behind his eyes. “ _Consano,_ with an s-curve, looping once at the end.”

                The pain, nausea and blurred vision cleared almost instantly, he sobered up and his memory returned just as quickly, sending his heart racing into overdrive and propelling him off the floor and into the far corner. Granger, to her credit, barely flinched, rising steadily to her feet and standing, wand at her side, eyebrows arched in a caricature of his usual visage.

               “Memory returned, I see,” Granger remarked smartly. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to kill you. Though I would like to know why you asked me to.”

                _Because I was drunk. Because I beat you, broke your trust, and I wouldn’t have stopped. Because I’m a monster just like my father and there should definitely never be another Tobias Snape in this world. Because I deserve it. Because I want you more than I should and you don’t deserve how I would inevitably treat you; who and what I would turn you into._

“I think it is clear this…arrangement…is not going to work, Miss Granger. I apologize for any harm that I have caused you and ask that you give me a few hours to get my affairs in order before reporting my behavior.” Severus held his breath, staring at a spot somewhere over her left shoulder.

                “I thought this …arrangement…was working just fine, _Severus_. And you didn’t answer my question.”

                Severus’s eyes darted to hers, shocked. She stood, eyebrow still arched, chin lifted with Gryffindor stubbornness. There was no sign of fear in her stance, though her wand was still very firmly in hand.

                “I don’t recall granting you permission to use my name, _Miss Granger_ ,” Severus gritted out, trying to at least appear in control, though he most certainly was not in any way, shape, or form.

                “It’s Hermione and when you beat someone like that and then ask them to kill you, you make it quite clear you aren’t really in control. Which means I don’t need your _permission_ for anything, do I, Severus?”

                _Fuck._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Hermione was not known as the brightest witch of her age for nothing. She smiled inwardly as Severus’s left eye twitched, a barely noticeable sign of…fear, irritation, shock? Whatever it was, it was a sign that she was onto something.

                “We’re going to talk, Severus. Get comfortable,” Hermione quipped, gesturing to the only chair in the room.

                Severus took a few steps in her direction, back ramrod straight and arms crossed in full Professor Snape mode. “I don’t know what you think you are doing, Miss Granger but rest assured…”

                “ _Depulso,”_ Hermione stated simply, sending the wingback chair behind him. “ _Flipendo. Incarcerous. Silencio.”_

                Hermione wasn’t about to admit it to him, but being able to control Snape, arguably the most powerful wizard in Europe, got her knickers wet. She walked closer to the wizard who was clearly irate after having been knocked back into the chair, tied to it, and effectively gagged. The furrow between his brows was a veritable canyon and his teeth were clenched so hard that the veins in his neck stood out in stark relief.

                “I’m sorry to have to do this. I know that for someone as controlled and controlling as you, this must be horrible. _I_ don’t want to restrain _you_. _I_ don’t want to bring _you_ pain.” Hermione did not fail to notice him flinch at the not-so-subtle reminder. “I just need you to talk to me. Clearly, something made you cancel classes and sent you to the bottle. You’re always so controlled, I didn’t take you for a drinker, let alone one who gets pissed for breakfast. Since you were fine last night, I have to assume that _something_ has to do with me. And the way you used the cane…it was like you weren’t even there, like you were possessed. Though that might have been the alcohol.

“I came to you to avoid my problems but it looks like I might have added to yours. I’m going to cancel the silencing charm and I know you can easily get out of the chair from there but I’m hoping you won’t. _Finite._ ”

                “You would have made a terrible Slytherin, Miss Granger,” Snape said, rising from the chair, having obviously removed the _incarcerous_ silently, and heading directly to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

                _But I am an excellent Gryffindor, Severus._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                Severus leaned back against his bedroom door and breathed deeply to calm his nerves. There was a reason he was a dominant. A reason he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about with his 19-year old student…lover…submissive…whatever she was.

                He guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised when said lover yanked the door open behind him, sending him staggering. He quickly righted himself and pivoted on his heel to come face to face with…an empty doorframe. She hadn’t yanked the door open; she had obliterated the door completely, ensuring he couldn’t close it again.

                “I guess we’re doing this the hard way then,” the witch had the audacity to say to him. In rapid fire succession he found himself divested of his clothes, sprawled across the bed, and bound hands above his head, ankles tethered to the bedposts, chest and thighs flat to the mattress with some very familiar looking red ropes. “You won’t be able to get out of those, Severus. It’s a spell of my own making, charmed to only respond to my magical signature. If you question my ability you can ask Marietta Edgecombe about it; the hex I placed on her fifth year still hasn’t faded. If you want released, you play by my rules.”

                “You will release me. Now,” Severus commanded, tone so sharp his words stabbed like knives.

                Hermi…the witch…just shook her head and hopped onto the bed via the trunk at its foot. She knelt between his legs, fully clothed herself, and surveyed his body like the answers she sought were buried just under the surface of his skin. Her lip trembled and her eyes turned sad as they took in his many scars.

                “We’re going to talk. For each question you answer, I will release a rope. Arms will be last, of course. If you refuse to answer a question, I will leave you here, tied to your bed. You can send your elf to fetch me when you’re ready to talk. You see, Severus, I’m in control now.”

                The damned witch sat with her legs pretzel-like in front of her like they were girlfriends at a slumber party about to gossip about boys and hair care products. Severus was at once livid and impressed. The fact that she was able to sit at all after what he had done to her…

                “You healed yourself,” he concluded, blaming the concussion for how long it took him to notice.

                “I used your stash from your office,” she admitted a bit guiltily. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. So, first question, who is the ‘him’ you’re so afraid of becoming and who did he kill?”

               _Fucking hell._


	9. Difficult Discussions Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets her answers and a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still am not JKR. These are not my characters. I make no money from this. 
> 
> Also, mentions of abuse so....not your cup of tea then please don't read.

Chapter 9: Difficult Discussions Part II

"That," Severus sneered, "is none of your business, Miss Granger." He was _not_ having this conversation with the chit. He had endured hours of torture at the hands of the Dark Lord; he could easily endure being tied up for a few hours. After all, the silly girl was a Gryffindor. Her moral compass would kick in and she would release him, probably before dinner. Possibly.

Of course, he had never been restrained by the Dark Lord, a fact he was quite grateful for as it brought back memories he would rather leave in the past. But that was what occlumency was for. And Severus was the best occlumens in the world. He dropped his head, neck starting to cramp with the pressure of holding it up while the rest of his body lay prone, and raised his shields.

"Well, the fact that I could barely crawl across the floor after you channeled whoever _he_ is makes it my business, Severus," came her swift, no-nonsense reply.

That one slipped through his shields, shame leaking out past his carefully constructed walls, arm-in-arm with regret and fear and memory.

_A bruised and battered body dragging itself across the kitchen floor, blood smearing on the worn linoleum as he sat, held down by nothing more than the threat, and his own fear, of similar treatment, yet paralyzed just the same._

The witch had the gall to scoot closer, the wool of her skirt catching in the dark hair of his calves. She casually placed her hand on his thigh, just below the red rope, emphasizing their inequitable positions. If he wasn't on the verge of…not- panic-but-something- close- to-panic-that-he-refused-to-acknowledge-as-being-panic…he would have appreciated her soft hands on his bare thigh.

"You will release me, witch," he ordered, glaring past his large nose at her, not-panic putting a distinct rasp in his voice,

"No," she said simply. "Not until you answer me. And it's Hermione. I mean, we've been as intimate as two people can be really so you might as well use my name."

She smiled at him, her hand rubbing a bit higher on his leg, upper body leaning towards him so her hair slipped over her shoulder. She did make quite the alluring sight. Too bad he was too full of self recrimination, guilt and not-panic to appreciate it. He needed to re-center, gain the upper hand, focus on anything else, and, of course, get the hell out of these bloody fucking ropes.

"You think we have been _intimate?"_ he asked, lip curled in a sneer. He needed to disavow her of that notion, post haste. Once again he raised his head, shoulder and neck muscles screaming. "I _raped_ you in my office, _took advantage_ of your fragile mental state and _coerced_ you into degrading yourself for _my_ pleasure. You are a hole to fuck, a toy to play with, _Miss Granger,_ nothing more than a willing witch meant to do as I command. And I _command_ you to. Release. Me. NOW!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione stared at the pale, gaunt man tied to the bed. The stark blackness of the sheets emphasized the alabaster of his skin and the numerous shimmery silver, puckered pink and angry red scars adorning his lean body. She hadn't had the chance over the last few days to truly admire his form and wished the situation were different so that she could look her fill. As it was, she wasn't interested…much… in his body at the moment other than for what it could tell her about his mental state. And it told her plenty.

His thigh was clenched tight as a drum under her hand. She could see his pulse pounding in his throat, muscles so tense there was a distinct "v" bracketing his Adam's apple. A fine sheen of sweat coated his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. His arms strained against their silken restraints, muscles bulging and hinting at a strength far greater than his body would suggest.

Understanding the state he was in allowed her to overlook his words to see the emotion and insecurity underneath. She had had plenty of practice with Harry and Ron over the years, after all. Because of this, she was able to see that his anger and domineering façade was just that; he was scared. She wasn't too concerned with his ire. She was a bit concerned about one thing, though.

"Rape? You must have hit your head harder than I thought, Severus. I recall being very, very willing during both encounters in your office."

Shame. His eyes darted to the side and his teeth clenched, head somehow hanging in his awkward position. He was riddled with shame and Hermione was shocked to realize that he truly believed he had raped her.

"I'll remove the rope around your chest if you explain why you think you raped me," Hermione negotiated. When his eyes shot back to hers, she knew she had him. Either he had been planning on explaining anyway or he really wanted that rope removed. She was betting on the latter as his body practically vibrated under her hand at the possibility.

"I did not know you were being truthful when I took you the first time," Severus admitted, velvety purr giving way to harsh rasp. "I willingly violated you thinking you did not _actually_ want me to. _Ergo_ rape."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what to do with that information. She did not view their encounter in any negative light until that moment. She couldn't help but feel the slightest bit violated. She had actually been willing but for him to have sex with her thinking she wasn't consenting did, in fact, make it rape on his part. The first thrust, anyway, because there was no way he could have continued to think her unwilling beyond that. Hermione didn't want to be a victim. There was enough shit inside her head without complicating things further with borrowed issues. She did not feel raped, whether he felt that way or not. So she did the only thing she could think to do. She kept to the deal. In the most Slytherin way she could conceive.

Hermione banished her wand, easily summoned if needed, and placed her newly-freed hand on his untouched thigh. She shuffled about until she was on her knees and leaned forward, sliding her palms up over the ropes wrapped tightly around his legs, towards the inside of his thighs, past sinewy muscle, teasing by his groin and over jutting hip bones, tickling his sides and ghosting over raised and furrowed scars until she reached the rope around his ribcage, knot tied firmly slightly higher than his solar plexus . She avoided looking at his face as she ran her hands from his sides inwards, towards the knot, wrists just grazing his navel, his stomach hollowing at the sensation.

She licked her lips, braced herself against his ribs, and leaned forward until she could place her mouth directly above the knot. She watched goose pimples erupt in front of her eyes as her breath washed over his clammy skin and her hair brushed against his stomach.

"You are forgiven, Severus. _Exsolvo_ ," she whispered, releasing the knot. She grabbed both ends of the now loosened rope and sat upright, ass resting on her heels, flinging the ends to the sides and away from the bed.

The wizard beneath her trembled and his eyes, when she dared look in them, reflected fear and the slightest hint of arousal. She licked her lips again, nervously, and those midnight orbs followed the motion. Hermione placed her hands palm up on her thighs, hoping the somewhat submissive pose might calm him and lull him into sharing more with her.

"I was willing. I am willing. You have not raped me, Severus. The rest of what you said might be true. Maybe you did take advantage of my mental state. But I set out to take advantage of yours, too, so we're even on that score. You coerced me because I wanted you to. I wasn't fighting you. You didn't manipulate me. I knew what I was doing when I returned to your office last night, still wearing your mark. You made it clear what I should expect and you delivered.

"But, Severus, you are wrong when you claim we haven't been intimate. If I was just a 'hole to fuck', then explain last night, in this bed, when there was no degradation, no dominance, and I was 'Hermione' to you. When you looked into my eyes and begged me to look into yours. You, a legilimens, willingly looking someone in the eye. What was that, if not intimate?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus was shaken. He had admitted that he had essentially, in his own mind at least, raped the girl and she had _forgiven_ him. Just like his mother had always, always, _always_ forgiven his no good, bastard of a father.

_Mixing a healing salve for his mother's split lip and fractured cheekbone._ " _He didn't mean it, Sev. Your father is just stressed about work. I shouldn't have bothered him."_

_Using his mother's wand to cast a healing charm on her broken arm, parents too poor to afford a doctor. "It's my fault, Sev. Don't blame your father. He apologized and he won't do it again."_

_Huddling in the corner as his father rocked his mother's unconscious body in his arms. "M sorry, Eileen. If I didna love ya so much I wouldna get so angry. It's yer own fault!"_

_Crying in his bed as a child while his mother wrapped his cracked ribs. "You shouldn't have spoken to your father like that, Severus. You know how he gets."_

_A bruised and battered body dragging itself across the kitchen floor, his father screaming, "Look what ya made me do, ya stupid bitch! It's yer fault," while his mother whimpered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."_

These trips down memory lane needed to stop. This witch knew how to get past his shields, lower his defenses, _feel_ when he didn't want to. He needed her out. He would do anything to get her out so he could think straight…not think at all. He once again lowered his head, not wanting to see the inevitable disgust on her face.

"My father beat my mother to death on our kitchen floor when I was fifteen," he murmured, voice strained. _Takeofftheropes…takeofftheropes….take…off…the…ropes!_

"Wh-what?" she stuttered.

"You asked who I was afraid of becoming and who he killed. Tobias Snape, my father. My mother had prepared stew for dinner for the third night in a row. My father took offense, never mind that he had spent all of our money on scotch and cigarettes and she did what she could with what she had."

His captor was silent so long that he finally chanced a look at her. Her breathing was a bit quick and her eyelashes fluttered, as if she was warding off tears. She swallowed thickly before straightening her spine and squaring her jaw, the consummate Gryffindor. She once again leaned forward, delicate hands coursing up his legs until they reached the ropes wrapped around his thighs. She let her fingertips wander around the edges of the ropes, caressing along the bottom of the rope from the outside of his thighs to the inside, tracing small circles through the coarse hair there, before repositioning to the top edge of the rope and following the same path back to the outside of his thighs again.

It was maddening. It was arousing enough to momentarily distract him from his _not_ panic, but not enough to override it completely. The two opposing emotions had him riding a razor edge, easily tipped off either side.

Those nimble fingers swirled again towards the inside of his legs, ever closer to his groin. The arousal was ratcheted up enough to put a slight twitch in his cock. The smallest of smirks graced the corner of her soft mouth before she dropped her head towards his lap, warm breath stirring his pubic hair before she shuffled her bottom back until she could place her lips against first one rope and then the next, releasing the spell and his thighs.

She dropped open mouth kisses along the path her fingers had travelled, as if her kisses could heal him. Her head between his legs was working to tilt him towards the arousal side of the cliff, especially as her thick curls danced over his prick, which promptly started to raise in the air, much like the hand of one particular know-it-all was wont to do. All too soon she was sitting up and back to her interrogation. He was thankful that she didn't offer platitudes or pity.

"Why were you drunk at ten in the morning?" she asked casually. "I didn't think someone as buttoned up and controlled as you would be the type to drink at all."

"I had just spent an evening fucking my student, in my chambers, _in my bed_. I had a moment of weakness." _Please let her take the answer at face value and drop it._

"What part about fucking me led to…this, Severus? You fucked me in your office without qualm."

_Shit. Of course she wouldn't drop it. She's Hermione stubborn-as-a-mule, give-ten-facts-when- two-will-suffice, highly-logical Granger._

"I answered your question. Now untie a rope," Severus ordered sullenly.

"I require more clarification, Severus, and seeing as I'm the only one who can release the ropes, I suggest you play nice."

He didn't need to look at her to know her face was smug and triumphant.

"You do realize that once I am free of the ropes, there is nothing stopping me from _fucking_ or _spanking_ some deference into you, do you not?" His question was asked casually, matter-of-factly, in a droll tone suggesting his words were neither threat, nor promise, merely a universal truth. He just prayed she didn't see past his false calm.

"Noted," she answered just as drolly.

"My office was…bad enough…but at least your presence in it could be explained. Not so in my personal chambers. The idea of losing my position when Hogwarts is all I've ever really known led me to drinking." _Dear Merlin, let her believe that._ "Drinking led me to lower my shields and let my baser instincts take over. I saw the ropes and the single malt did the rest. I am sure that if you had not come bursting in like the Gryffindor you are, I would have sobered up and come to my senses long before I saw you again."

If he had been looking at her, Severus might have noticed the change in her demeanor. As it was, he missed the straightening of her spine, the clenching of her fists and the narrowing of her eyes.

"So this is my fault?" she asked incredulously.

"You should have minded your own business and we would have never found ourselves in this position," Severus asserted, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from his motivations and shift the focus anywhere else.

"You shouldn't have been drinking away your issues at ten in the morning!" Her voice was growing harder.

_'_ _m a grown man. I can drink e'never I damn well please, woman, and I'll thank ya to keep yer bleedin' mouth shut 'bout it._

"You should have left...me...alone. I was fine before you came into my office like some Knockturn Alley whore, gagging for it."

"Back to it being my fault. Like it was your mother's fault for preparing stew? Dear ol' dad just gave her what she had coming to her. I guess I got what I deserved, too, then, hmm?"

Severus's head snapped up, eyes furious and lip lifted in a snarl. "SHE DID NOT DESERVE _THAT!_ " he roared.

"BUT I DID?" the insufferable witch bellowed back. "And if you had killed me, Severus? If you hadn't stopped until my blood stained your floor? Would I have deserved that as well? Because what? I tempted you and you _might_ lose your position? I call bullshit."

_A bruised and battered body dragging itself across the kitchen floor, his father's booted foot raining down blows wherever it landed, back, ribs, skull…_

"The ropes, Miss Granger," Severus insisted. He needed out of the damned ropes. Now. He began to struggle against them, twisting and turning his arms and legs.

"Did I deserve that, Severus? Is my desire for you a punishable offense? Is wanting you such a crime that I needed to be beaten past my limits so I know _exactly_ who is in charge…who has all of the power? Believe me; I already know it's…"

"YOU!" Severus cried, movements ceasing as he gave up, gave in. His head thumped back down on the pillow and his arms and legs once more hung loosely in their bindings.

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Hermione was stunned into silence. Did Severus Snape, one of the most intelligent, powerful, and skilled wizards alive, just say…?

"What? What did you say?" she asked dumbfounded, sure she had misheard or misunderstood that one simple word.

"You have the power, Miss Granger, the control. I have none. Clearly. Just look at our interactions and I am sure an intelligent witch such as yourself can see what is so obvious. From the first you have unmanned me. I. Am. Unmanned."

Severus looked and sounded so defeated, so miserable, so _powerless_ that Hermione canceled the charm altogether, too shaken to continue her interrogation. She had pushed him past his limits and learned more than she thought he would ever reveal.

Severus laid there, arms and legs still in position as if restrained, too out of it to realize she had given him what he wanted. Hermione didn't think; she just acted. Banishing her clothes to the floor, so they were on more equal footing, she crawled over his prone body, careful not to let a stray knee or elbow hit him anywhere delicate, and curled up on his chest, knees on either side of his hips and hands tucked underneath his ribs.

"I do not wish to control you, Master," she whispered against his sternum, hoping the appellation would ease him. "I am sorry if I ever made you think…"

"You control me whether you wish to or not, Hermione," came his strained response. "I am no one's Master, least of all yours. I cannot afford to lose control. You don't know what I could do. What I have done. This…was nothing in comparison."

He still sounded dejected, defeated, but his arms lowered and his long, lean hands came to rest in her hair and on the small of her back. Hermione remained silent, brain running at full speed until an idea struck. She sat up, shaking off his loose hold on her. The position perfectly placed her pussy directly over his prick.

Slowly she ran her hands down his chest, tracing his scars, from new to old and back again. She rolled her hips, his pubic hair tickling her mons, and reached higher on his chest, barely brushing his collar bone and the large scar along the side of his neck. She slid her hands down the corded muscles of his arms until she could grab his wrists and raise them above his head once more.

Severus's black eyes bore into hers, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, mouth tense in nervous anticipation. "What are you doing?"

"Taking control," Hermione answered simply. "You say I have it and you cannot afford to lose it. I think you never had it to begin with and don't know what to do with it when you do have it. So since you don't know how to play nice with your toys, I'm taking this one. I'll give it back once you've earned it."

"Hermione-"

"Mistress," Hermione interjected. "You will call me 'Mistress', Severus. I think I was wrong about you. You _want_ control and you exert it, over yourself and your classroom. Perhaps over your lovers. But that was when you had two masters to answer to. Now there are no masters and you are out of balance. Let me balance you…give you purpose again."

"And what purpose is that?" Severus whispered.

"To please me," Hermione answered. "Out there," she pointed towards his sitting room and office, "you are in control. I will kneel, crawl, suck, fuck, and anything else you desire. But in here," she indicated the bedroom with a twirl of her finger, "I expect obedience, immediate and unwavering. Balance, Severus, is what I am offering. Do you accept?"

Severus stared at her for a long moment before answering. He averted his eyes in deference and replied, voice thick with need, "Yes, Mistress."


	10. Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gives Severus something he's never had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm.....mentions of child abuse and torture, not detailed. Oh, and some fluffy smut...kind of.

Chapter 10: Balance

                Severus didn’t realize…he had no idea….but it made a strange sort of sense. His father ruled the hovel that was Spinner’s End with an iron fist and a leather boot. His purpose was to stay out of the old man’s way and survive another day in the grey dankness that was Cokeworth. He traded one master for another when he came to Hogwarts, answering to older Slytherins and teachers alike, focused once again on survival as a poor half-blood in the pureblood house and the perpetual target of choice for house Gryffindor. His master during his apprenticeship followed, then the Dark Lord, and then Albus _and_ the Dark Lord. He always had someone to answer to and a higher purpose to regulate his actions.

                He was controlled and balanced that by controlling others, subverting them to his will, bending them, breaking them, and molding them to his whims. He had not connected the two together. He could see, though, how someone as highly logical and highly emotional as she would have made that leap. It was sound logic. Incorrect, at least in regards to him, but sound. He had not been celibate since the war ended. If anything, once he recovered from his wounds, which took until the end of June, he was practically drowning in willing witches who expected him to be dark and perverted and allowed him to dominate them. He had never lost sight of his purpose or control of his actions or emotions.

              When the witch currently sat atop him had approached him, and they had cleared up their misunderstanding, he saw it as another opportunity like any other. He would bend her, twist her ‘round his fingers, and have her wrapped around his cock and thanking him for the opportunity to please him. But that wasn’t what happened. It was only with Her… _her_ that he lost control of himself and allowed something more organic, natural, emotional, more intimate to occur. Though he wasn’t ready to admit that and so leapt at the excuse she offered up on a silver platter.

             Perhaps it was because he actually knew the witch, a novelty for him as he usually frequented establishments to interact with like-minded women who didn’t care about where there pleasure came from or who wanted the dark, domineering Death Eater turned spy and hero. _She_ wasn’t a nameless, faceless hole to fuck. He knew her and he admired her intellect, her wit, and her power, for she was powerful. She was also ambitious, resourceful, conniving, and manipulative. She would have done well in Slytherin, if it hadn’t been for her blood status and her tender heart, regardless of what he had told her.

           Maybe it was because he started their liaison impulsively when all others before her were not so. Was that why he found himself losing control of himself with her? He didn’t know and now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now wasn’t the time to think at all. Not with a willing young woman straddling his dick, slick wet heat surrounding his rapidly hardening flesh.

            He wasn’t giving her anything she didn’t already have. He was tired of fighting it. Three days. He had tried doing things solely his way and little by little he had gotten further and further away from that with which he was most familiar until he had dulled his senses and thus his self control with alcohol, just like his father, and taken his frustration and fear out on her, _just like his father_. In just three days. Not even. Perhaps 6 hours all told, not counting any of the hours they spent sleeping in his bed. Something about her made him lose his control, even if she hadn’t noticed it until he had striped her from waist to knees, her blood dripping onto his floor. He would see where this went, if only because he was curious. And horny. And though he knew it would be safer if he cut all ties, he could admit at least to himself that he didn’t really want to.

                Deft fingers brushed his hair from his face, trailing down the bridge of his nose and across his lower lip before running down his neck, and settling on his chest, tangling in the hair there.

                “Look at me,” she commanded and he was helpless to do anything but obey.

                She was beautiful. Her curls formed a halo around her head, wild and uncontrolled like her spirit. Her hazel eyes were determined and lust filled, half closed yet trained on his own obsidian orbs. Her chin was raised; giving him the perfect view of her long, slender neck, delicate collar bones leading to thin, yet toned arms which sandwiched her breasts in their current position, offering them to him like ripe peaches. Her breasts were tipped in pink, nipples puckered and begging for attention. He followed the line of her cleavage to her navel, barely a slash in her taut stomach, and finally to her thatch of curls, brown blending with his own black.

                “I am going to touch you, Severus,” the witch warned. “I want you to talk to me as I do. Quid pro quo, as it were.”

                “About what, Mistress?” he asked.

                “About this. Tell me what you like, what you feel, what you don’t like. Answer my questions. Don’t worry, I’ll allow you safewords. But I think we can just go with ‘wait’ if you need a moment and ‘stop’ if you don’t want to answer me.” And with that the witch began the slow destruction of Severus Snape.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Hermione surveyed his scarred torso, finally picking a rather old looking scar, silver in the candlelight from the sconces, bisecting his left pectoral, just barely missing his small male nipple. She followed the path of the razor thin scar as it cut through his sparse chest hair before flicking his brown nipple with her fingernail and watching it pucker.

                “Does it still hurt?” she asked the powerful wizard laid low beneath her. She circled his nipple with her index finger, flicked it again, and then followed the scar back to its beginning, below his collar bone.

                “No, Mistress, not anymore. It happened a long time ago,” Severus answered, voice low and strained. “It is…sensitive.”

                “I have a scar on my knee from falling out of a tree when I was five. Did you get this one from a fall? I can’t really picture you as a clumsy child.” Hermione continued, voice oh so please-don’t-catch-on-to-what-I’m-really-doing casual.

                “Mistress, I am a Slytherin and I’ve already admitted you have me in the palm of your hand. If you want to know, please, just ask,” Severus replied, eyebrow twitching but not quite arched. Hermione appreciated his restraint.

                Hermione decided she would make this particular interrogation much more pleasant than the last. She rolled her hips, grinding against his semi-erect penis before leaning forward and licking from his nipple, up the smooth silver river of scar tissue until she reached his collar bone, which she nipped lightly, soothing the sting with a swirl of her tongue before sitting back up. She didn’t bother hiding her satisfied smirk when he shuddered.

                “There, I kissed it all better,” she announced smartly.

                “And so you did, Mistress,” Severus agreed. “My mother did the same, well, the motherly version anyway, after my father gave it to me. I was twelve.”

                Hermione wasn’t going to push. He had told her that his father was abusive so she didn’t need the specifics. Didn’t want the specifics. She didn’t want to picture a young, frightened Snape being beaten by his father. Knowing it happened was bad enough.

                Instead of asking for details, she merely asked, “Which of these scars are from your father? Show me.”

                She nearly cried as he lowered his right hand and one-by-one pointed to almost a dozen scars on his upper body alone. He would point and she would lick, running her tongue along silky lines made by smooth cuts, raised circles she suspected were made by cigarettes, puncture wounds where his rib might have poked through the skin and one long, jagged furrow that zigzagged across his stomach, like someone had tried to gut him with a broken bottle.

                _God, I hope his father didn’t try to gut him with a broken bottle!_

                As she licked and kissed and nipped his flesh, he steadily grew more and more aroused until she sat back up and nearly impaled herself on his cock. She wiggled a bit, letting his head rub against her own aroused flesh until his whole body tensed up beneath her.

                “Please, Mistress,” the wizard pleaded.

                “Do you like me touching you, tasting you?” Hermione asked him. She half expected a long, drawn out, “Obviously” from the dark wizard.

                “Yes, Mistress,” he answered sibilantly, breath hissing through his clenched teeth.

                “Are there others from your father?” Hermione asked, eager to continue to touch and taste for she was fairly certain that regardless of the number of partners he had been with, this intelligent, snarky, powerful, sexy wizard was touch starved. At his nod she once again commanded him to show her.

                “I will have to turn over, Mistress.”

                _Was that fear in his voice? What would he be afraid of…_

                “Are all of these…?” she gasped. She had lifted herself off of him so that he could roll to his stomach and had just settled herself down atop his surprisingly lush ass when she got a good look at his back. Or rather, the great mass of scar tissue where his back should have been. He was covered in long, thick scars, crisscrossing like railroad tracks from shoulders to hipbones opposite and back again. Along with the smooth and the jagged scars like those on his chest, there were scars where it looked as if his flesh had been burnt off, melting like candle wax. Hermione looked desperately for a patch of skin that wasn’t scarred, something that showed that his entire life hadn’t been one great cycle of pain and degradation, but found none.

                “Not all. The Dark… _Voldemort_ was rather fond of meting out physical punishment when we didn’t live down to his exacting standards. There are three though, as thick as a man’s belt, the only scars that run from right to left. My father was a southpaw.”

                Hermione could see them now, partially obscured by the sheer number of wounds that had been inflicted above them. She let the tears fall, since he couldn’t see her anyway with his face buried in his arms. How anyone could be so cruel to a child…

                “Why?” she whispered more to herself than him. He must have heard her though because he answered.

                “My father hated me, Mistress. He rarely needed any other reason.”

                Hermione could tell by his bitter tone that he believed what he said but that he also wished it hadn’t been so. Like any child, he wanted his parents to love him. She understood why he would have joined the Death Eaters, even though he was half muggle. She vowed then and there to show him that people could and did care for him. She cared for him. Touch didn’t always have to bring pain. Love didn’t always hurt.

                Not that she loved him! She had only really known him for such a short time, having no interaction outside of classes and the semi-annual scrapes she and her friends had gotten into where he had either caught them, helped them, or helped clean up the mess. But she admired him and she respected him and she didn’t think anyone deserved kindness and gentleness and “love” as much as this man did.

                Wiping her tears she rearranged her body so that she was lying partially on his back, her hips and lower abdomen cushioned by the globes of his ass, her legs stretched out in between his and her weight resting on her elbows which were pressed against his sides. She licked and kissed the patches of his old scars visible in between the raised flesh of his newer wounds until she had covered as much of them as she could and he was trembling beneath her, hips pressing slightly into the mattress beneath him.

                “You did nothing to deserve any of that, Severus. It wasn’t your fault. Your father was a bastard and I hope he’s rotting in hell somewhere. Is that all from him?”

                He didn’t answer verbally, just nodded his head where it rested against his crossed forearms.

                “Are you alright to continue? There are a lot more here and I don’t plan on stopping until I’ve kissed every last scar,” Hermione asked, mentally adding on, _even the emotional ones._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Severus couldn’t speak, for if he did the witch who was, at the present moment, completely tearing him the fuck apart would know that he was breaking. Her touch was so gentle, so full of…not _love_ but caring and sympathy, the likes of which he had never felt before, not even from his mother, that he was cracking as surely as if he was made of glass and she had cast a _reducto_ on him.

                He was confused, his body aroused beyond anything he had ever felt before and his heart swelling and throbbing much like his prick. His brain had never felt those two sensations simultaneously for anyone other than Lily and it wasn’t coping well with the new experience.

                “Wait,” he managed to gasp, needing a moment to try and get his dick, his heart, or his brain back under control. He felt her weight shift until she was more evenly distributed on his back, her head pillowed between his shoulder blades, arms tucked tight to his sides, and legs curled up beside his hips, much like she had hugged him before this session of hers had begun. He enjoyed the feel of her slight weight against him, like a heavy blanket on a cold day. She didn’t say anything other than to tell him to take as much time as he needed.

                After a few moments, he took a great shuddering breath and began the tale of his scars. “I have endured the _crucio_ curse dozens of times at the hands of fellow Death Eaters and the Dar… _Voldemort_. He was also especially fond of watching his minions torture one another, setting aside supposed loyalty just to try and get a step up on the ladder, a step closer to his favor. Knives were a favorite, as was _sectumsempra,_ which he made sure I taught to all of his followers once he learned I had invented it. He liked to have the newer recruits practice on me, so I could instruct them in my own torture.

              “When he wanted to get his hands dirty, he awed the crowds with his control of fiendfyre. He was able to narrow it to naught but a stream, as thin as his wand. He burnt his name into Bella, though I think she enjoyed it, the crazy bitch.”

                He could feel her trembling slightly and wondered if it was in pity or rage. Probably both. He waited with baited breath to see if she would demand more but she never did. She shifted once more and began her tour of his back, bringing him back to the edge of arousal and fucking up his head beyond recognition as she repeated her mantra, assuring him it wasn’t his fault and he didn’t deserve it.

               When his entire back had been baptized by her hot mouth she commanded he roll over and he obeyed, helpless to do anything else and desperate for more of her touch, her kiss, _her_. He needed to feel her wrapped around him, her legs, her arms, and especially her tight heat.

              “Please, Mistress,” he begged again, praying she would end his torment.

               She must have felt his desperate need because she balanced herself with one hand on his sternum and used the other to line him up with her slick entrance. She stared him straight in the eye as she slowly sunk down on his painfully erect cock, taking his entire length like she was born to do it, made especially just for him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Severus’s eyes rolled back in his head as Hermione inched down his length slowly, trying to give her swollen pussy time to adjust to his girth. When she was finally seated, her clit pressed deliciously against his pelvic bone, she ordered him to look at her.

                “Don’t take your eyes off me, Severus. If you look away without my permission, I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

                “Yes, Mistress,” he whined.

                She knew what he was used to, what he expected. _He_ touched. _He_ took. _He_ tasted. It was _he_ who gave the commands and did as he pleased, as hard as he pleased, exorcising his demons through dominance. She wanted to teach him that he could be equally as free without the chains, the whips, the physical _invasion_ that he was so accustomed to. So as much as she wanted to impale herself on his cock over and over as fast as she could until she was screaming in bliss, she wouldn’t. Instead, she took things slow.

                Staring into the obsidian eyes of her lover, she slowly raised herself until only his engorged head remained inside her, lowering herself down just as slowly. They moaned simultaneously.

_God, he feels so good inside me. Like he was built just for me._

                “Sit up, Severus; I want to touch you,” she begged…commanded.

                They both moaned again as he sat up. Hermione adjusted her position, wrapping one hand around his neck and leaning back, which served two purposes, one being that she could now use her free hand to rub his arm, pinch his nipples, grip his hip, and tug at his chest hair, and two being that it changed the angle of his dick inside her and hit that spot that made her feel like she needed to pee, but in the best way.

                She petted the Potions Master everywhere she could reach, all the while slowly rolling her hips forward and back, grinding on his cock in an age old rhythm that would certainly get the job done…eventually. His hands stayed by his side and she could tell his fists were clenched because of how tight the muscles in his arm felt under her hand.

                “Touch me, Severus,” she said, granting him the permission he didn’t know his body was asking for. “Touch me how I’m touching you.”

                And he did. One hand wrapped around her neck, though he made sure to keep his touch gentle, while the other rubbed up her arm, across her collar bone, and down her chest until he could cup one breast in the palm of his hand, thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling her nipple. It felt good. It felt better than good. Hermione’s hips sped up just a little bit in response.

                Looking in his eyes, her hand almost directly over his heart, she could tell he was getting ready to topple over the edge. She was close but not as close as he was. She wanted to come on his cock. She wanted to come while making love to him. She wanted him to know that soft, and slow, and gentle was just as good as hard, and fast, and frantic.

                “Kiss me, Severus,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t balk at the intimacy. He hadn’t kissed her on the mouth even once during their many encounters. After all, you kiss lovers, not convenient holes to fuck.

                It was somewhat telling that he didn’t even hesitate. The hand at her neck slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head, and the one at her breast wrapped around her shoulders, bringing her chest flush to his. His lips descended and he placed a kiss so light it was like being brushed by butterfly wings on her lips. He followed it up with another and another until she moaned and then he finally, finally, finally pressed his lips gently but firmly to hers, licking into her mouth like he had all the time in the world to do so.

                The new position flattened her breasts against his chest, his wiry chest hair scraping at her pebbled nipples, and caused her clit to press and rub against his pelvis with every roll of her hips. This would do it for her. Just a little bit more of this.

                Eyes still locked, tongues slipping and sliding against one another, and bodies rolling and grinding, they both finally fell over the edge of oblivion, sighing their orgasms into each other’s mouths.


	11. Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus discuss what they really want. Someone remembers a certain map and panic ensues. Kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the characters, only the situations they find themselves in. Thank you for all of the kudos and comments! Please ignore any formatting weirdness. For some reason this site likes to post things without indentations where they were orginally placed.

Chapter 11: Negotiations

                Severus couldn’t breathe. Not literally. Lungs worked just fine, expanding and contracting the way God designed them too, though a bit rapidly since he had just had the most profound orgasm of his entire life. No, he couldn’t breathe in the way that he felt breathless, awed and terrified like watching a tornado that could, at any moment, turn in your direction. And he guessed it was fitting, in a sense. Hermione Granger was a whirlwind and nothing, once it was in her path, made it away unscathed. That included Severus Snape, who had survived Tobias Snape, two wars, Tom Riddle, and a giant damned snake. And whatever Albus was.

                He wasn’t sure if he would survive her. She was in his head and they had only been involved for three days. Where would she be in another three days? What secrets would he reveal after a week? What would he be willing to do in a month? What would he do when she graduated and left him behind?

                _Everyone leaves eventually. This is nothing new. Why does it bother you to think of her leaving?_

                Severus had always had more than enough trouble and never really needed to borrow any, so he shoved those thoughts aside until later…much later…never, even, and focused on the here and now. _Here_ was in his bed, slouched back against the headboard, muscles too weak to remain upright, with a warm and willing witch wrapped around him like a blanket, hair tickling his nose and breath huffing out onto his neck where she had buried her face, or passed out, whatever, and _now_ was…hell if he knew. What time was it?

                Severus cast a quick _tempus_ and groaned. It was after lunch. It was quite a bit after lunch, actually. He rarely made an appearance in the Great Hall and had made an excuse to be out of the castle and so would not have been missed. Hermione might have been missed by her friends, however, and he wouldn’t put it past the youngest Weasley to be in possession of her meddling boyfriend’s map. He shuddered to think what would happen should she take a peek and see _Hermione Granger_ hovering directly above _Severus Snape_ in the Potion Master’s bedchambers. He wasn’t afraid of the girl, though he was impressed with her ability to cast a hex. He was more concerned about what a brash young Gryffindor would do with the information, what assumptions the girl might make.

                “Mistress,” he called, voice a husky whisper.                                    

She didn’t stir. Severus raised his hand from where it was hanging limply along the small of her back, trailing his fingers up her spine, feeling each individual vertebra and enjoying the dips in between. The wrecked witch atop him twitched and moaned.

“Hermione,” Severus tried again. Nothing. “Pet, wake up.”

“Hmmm,” vibrated against the side of his neck, sending goose bumps cascading down his chest.

“What ever happened to Potter’s map?” he murmured into her hair.

“Hmmm?”

“The map, Hermione. Where is it?” Severus kept his voice gentle but insistent.

“Hrgvitgny,” came her muffled response.

Obviously, he was going to have to stop being so gentle. He slid his hand into her hair and tugged until her eyes met his, pupils still blown and eyelids half-closed. “Pet, answer me, now. Where. Is. The. Map?”

“Harry gave it to Ginny. Why?” Hermione answered, voice hoarse and tired.

“And would your absence from lunch warrant a search of the map?” Severus asked, amused yet concerned when her previously droopy eyes opened wide as saucers. “I’ll take your reaction as a ‘yes’. Should I be expecting McGonagall, the aurors, or Miss Weasley herself to come bursting through my door? I would like to be prepared.”

“No. Ginny wouldn’t…not before…I need to go explain…oh my God,” Hermione groaned, now wide awake. She pushed herself up, his cock and cum sliding out of her and landing with a wet plop on his stomach. Before she could throw a leg over and climb off of him, Severus tightened his grip on her hair and latched his other hand on her hip, digging deep and putting stop to her panicked movements.

“It’s nearly two hours past lunch. If she was going to look, she has already done so. Taking off running through the halls in this state isn’t going to solve anything,” Severus intoned, words low and slow as if trying to tame a wild beast. With the panic in Hermione’s eyes, he felt the comparison apt.

Panic turned to indignation. “Then, what do you suggest we do? Maybe floo her and ask her to join us since you seem so wholly unconcerned?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Bathe,” he replied before suddenly turning sideways, feet dropping to the floor and the tiny witch still in his lap. “You look well and truly fucked, pet. You go through the halls like that and it won’t be just Miss Weasley asking for explanations. And besides,” he said as he stood, easily lifting the curly-haired witch in his arms, “I thought I told you. I. Don’t. Share.”

“You also said you don’t fuck schoolgirls and yet here I am. And I thought I told you, Severus, that in here I am in charge,” Hermione quipped in her bossiest tone. “And as your Mistress-“

“No,” Severus interrupted, carrying the girl into the bathroom and sitting her atop the vanity. He stood between her spread knees, cupped her face in both hands and stared into her hazel eyes, absentmindedly noticing the sooty blackness of her thick lashes and the flecks of gold around her pupils.

“No ‘Mistress’. No ‘Master’. Right now we are simply ‘Severus’ and ‘Hermione’. And if this is the last hour I have before Minerva murders me, or they throw me in Azkaban, or I lose my position and the only true home I’ve ever known, then by damn I am going to spend it however I damn well please.”

He waited with bated breath for her response. He waited as she stared into his eyes, focus switching from one to the other as if she were searching for something. She must have found it because she let loose a long sigh and nodded, the barest dip of her chin, acquiescing and submitting once more.

Severus ran his fingers across her cheekbones, down her jaw and around the back of her head, gathering her thick hair and pulling it up, twisting it into a messy bun atop her head and using a charm to stick it there. A few strands fell down to frame her face and he tucked them behind her ears before trailing his hands down her throat to trace the delicate bones of her shoulders. He lazily stroked down her arms, bringing them up to wrap around his shoulders before dropping them to her knees and lifting her legs to cross around his waist. He grabbed her thighs and lifted her, spinning and carrying her into the tub, which began to fill with water at his preferred temperature. He released her to bob in the water before turning her to sit between his legs on the bench, much as she had when he had taken care of her after their first session.

_Was that really just last night?_

“Lean your head back and relax.” Severus waited for Hermione to do as instructed and then he started washing her, at once washing away his scent and bathing her in it.

He ran a foamy sponge over every inch of her skin, starting at her neck and traversing her shoulders and arms, tickling the inside of her elbows and dipping carefully between her long fingers, Arms finished, he squeezed out a waterfall of suds along her clavicle, bubbles sliding tantalizingly down between her breasts, flush from the heat of the water. The sponge followed the path of the soap before circling first one pert mound and then the next, leaving a mountain of tiny bubbles atop each rosy peak.

“Severus?” Hermione asked, voice low and husky as a voice could only be when its owner was on the brink of sleep or on the brink of climax.

“Yes, pet?” Severus responded, dipping the sponge below the water to wash her stomach, bubble charm coming in handy once again.

“I’m sorry.”

Severus softly commanded her to lean forward and began washing her back, missing the feel of her weight against his chest but enjoying the view of her delicate spine and the slight muscles he could see under her golden skin. They were silent for a few moments while he washed away the sweat and let the warm water and his ministrations loosen the tight muscles of her back and shoulders.

“Why?” he finally asked her, wrapping an arm around her torso and pulling her back onto his chest.

“Because I was selfish and desperate and stupid and I might have cost you your position, your home, maybe your freedom.” Her voice was high and tight.

He knew that tone. He had _caused_ that tone quite deliberately with dozens of women over the years. The difference was that he knew how to handle tears when he had caused them and they were due to pain, exhaustion, sexual overstimulation, or orgasm denial. He didn’t know how to handle them when they were caused by concern for his own welfare. Nobody had ever _been_ concerned for his own welfare before.

Severus grabbed Hermione by the waist and nudged her forward enough that he could slide out from behind her. He glided through the water until he came to rest in front of her, leaning forward, hands still on her waist, until his forehead pressed against hers and he could see the tears swimming in her beautiful eyes. He sighed long and loud through his nose.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked in a whisper. “How can you keep breaking me apart like this when I thought I was already broken?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Hermione lost her battle with her tears and felt them running down her face. To hear him describe himself as broken, to know what he had endured in his life, to know she had contributed to his suffering in whatever capacity she had…

                “I’m s-s-sorry,” she sobbed.

                Severus shook his head, the friction warming her where their heads touched. He shifted and kissed the tears from her eyelashes and cheeks, sipping them from the corner of her lips before gently pressing his lips to hers, his lips on her lips and his hands on her waist the only parts of him touching her.

                _So why does it feel like he’s touching so much more than that?_

                Hermione took a shaky breath, lips parting just enough for his tongue to dip inside once…twice…before he pulled away and pressed his forehead back to hers. She looked into his dark eyes, noticing little flecks of chocolate brown and toffee hidden in the black.

                “I’m not,” he murmured. “I’m not sorry at all.”

                “But…Ginny…your job…my fault,” Hermione whispered.

                “I’m 38 years old, your teacher and a former Death Eater. No one is ever going to believe that any of this is your fault. And it isn’t. I am quite capable of controlling myself and have done so for longer than you have been alive.”

                Severus pulled away from her and grabbed her right leg, lifting it out of the water and summoning the sponge so he could wash her from hip to toes. Her left leg followed and then the only thing left to wash was her center.

 

                “But what if Ginny goes to the headmistress? I couldn’t stand it if you had to sacrifice one more thing because I…”

                “Needed to get a leg over?” Severus cut her off with a dark chuckle. “Was desperate for a shag? Wanted to get fucked into next week?”

                “Severus! This isn’t funny. You could lose everything!” Hermione lectured.

“It has been a few hours. I think if Miss Weasley was going to act, she would have by now. Spy tip number one, Hermione, don’t go looking for trouble, let it come to you, on your terms. Now, stand up.”

Hermione, used to doing what this man told her to, scooted her bottom forward, intent on standing in the warm water with Severus. But he stopped her with an arched eyebrow.

_Oh. Oh!_

Blushing, though this man had seen every inch of her naked body, had his mouth and his tongue on every part of her body, she scooted back until she could get her feet under her and stand up on the bench, water sluicing down her minimal curves and center almost level with Severus’s face. The powerful wizard pressed a kiss to her belly before tapping the inside of her thigh, silently ordering her to spread her legs. Her whole body flushed but she did what he wanted because…well, of course she did what he wanted.

He grabbed the sponge in both hands but he didn’t bring it to her core. Instead, he squeezed it until his hands were liberally coated with slippery suds, threw the sponge aside, and brought both hands to her hips. He trailed one slick hand around to dip between the globes of her ass and sent the other down to cup her sex, caressing, dipping, and swirling around her labia until she was equally as slick as his hand.

“Come here,” Severus drawled, removing his hands and repositioning them at her hips.

Hermione took two steps forward, stepping off the edge of the bench and into Severus’s arms. He slowly lowered her body along his until she was chest to chest with him, her legs around his torso, ankles crossed at the small of his back, body submerged up to her ribcage in steaming water, fogged from the soap.

“I like this, Severus,” she said. “I like you. I like you like this.”

“You like the other me, too, Hermione. Master,” Severus reminded her. “I like you at my feet. I like you across my knee. I really like you wrapped around my cock. But I like you like this, too.”

“Can we renegotiate our deal?” Hermione bit her lip and bit back a smile when his eyes locked on them.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, suddenly sinking down and back, until he was almost floating prone in the water with her atop him.

He must have used some kind of levitation charm or else they would have both gone under. His continued use of wandless, wordless magic impressed her and got her hot, if she were being honest with herself. Hermione crossed her arms over his chest, resting her chin on her hands.

“I want conversation, cuddling, baths together. I want to be ‘pet’ to your ‘Master’ and I want to be ‘Mistress’. I want…”

“A relationship. That sounds a lot like a relationship, Hermione. I’ve never…I don’t know how…I’m not what you want.” His words were strained and his eyes wary.

Hermione sat up…definitely a levitation charm…and crossed her arms, trying to look stern and intimidating while naked and floating atop the most powerful wizard in Britain…perhaps even in Europe. She did not miss the twitch of his eyebrow…or the twitch much further down from his eyebrow.

“Please refrain, in future, from telling me what I do and do not want, Severus Snape.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he growled, the twitch much stronger now.

“I think it could work. If you need to dominate, or I need to submit, we’ll meet in your office. If I think we need some balance, or you want to submit to me, we’ll meet in your bedroom. And if we just want to talk, eat, see where it goes, we start in the sitting room and…see where it goes.”

Hermione bit her lip, silently pleading for him to say ‘yes’, to say he wanted to try it and see where it goes. With her. She wanted to fix this broken man, to give back to the man who had sacrificed so much for her and all of the wizarding world. She wanted to soothe the neglected and abused little boy, champion the bullied teen, and love the bitter and broken man.

_Not yet. But maybe. Maybe one day love._

“And if I want to dominate when you don’t want to submit? What then?” Severus lifted his hands from the water and grabbed Hermione’s arms, uncrossing them and bringing them down to rest on his chest, his long, elegant fingers caressing hers.

“I will always submit when you need it, Severus. I don’t want to dominate you. I will only seek to dominate when I think it is what _you_ need. And if we cannot agree, then maybe we start in the sitting room and just see where it goes,” Hermione reasoned.

Severus appeared to be contemplating it, eyes unfocused and fingers still trailing up and down her own. Hermione turned her hands to catch his, tracing circles on his palms before grabbing his wrists and lifting his hands above his head, bringing her body flush to his. She kissed him, a chaste peck on the lips.

“Please, Severus,” she begged prettily, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Hermione…” Severus groaned.

“Please,” she repeated, wiggling her body until she could kiss each of his eyelids.

“Hermione,” Severus whispered, like her name was the benediction.

“Please,” she cajoled, whispering into his ear before nipping the lobe with her teeth.

“Yes,” Severus hissed. “Yes, witch.”

Hermione released his hands so she could cup his face and kiss him properly. He immediately grabbed her hips and then dropped his charm so he could stand and walk her back to the bench. He settled her onto it, buried his newly freed hands in her hair, disrupting the sticking charm, and deepened the kiss. Her tongue battled with his and her hands moved from his face up to tangle in his hair. Hermione tightened her legs around his waist, rolling her hips against his erection.

She pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath. “I need you, Severus. Why do I need you like this? How could I possibly need you again so soon?”

Severus didn’t answer, he just kissed her again and shifted her so that he could slip inside her, sliding deep and immediately setting a rhythm that sloshed water up and over the side of the tub and pulled moan after moan out of her. He dropped his hands to her ass, tilting her up so that he bumped her g-spot over and over.

Hermione’s head bowed back, grunting his name with each thrust of his cock inside her. “Sev. Er. Us. Sev. Er. Us. Sev. Er. Us. Sev. Er. Us. Sev-rus-Sev-rus-Sev-Uuuuuuuuu!” Her orgasm hit her hard and fast and she trembled around him. He pounded into her a few more times before he too came, sighing her name. It was quick and sloppy, the orgasm hitting her before she was ready, but it was still somehow perfect.

They stayed that way for a few long minutes, out of breath and hearts beating almost in sync before Severus withdrew and stepped back, letting Hermione’s body sag onto the bench. She lowered her head onto the edge of the tub and started to giggle.

“There are appropriate times for laughter, witch,” Severus huffed.

“I was supposed to be getting rid of the ‘just fucked’ look and no sooner do you finish bathing me, you fuck me again,” Hermione explained, giggling again.

“I guess we will need to begin again, then,” Severus intoned.

“No. I mean, I want to but…” Hermione trailed off.

“Miss Weasley won’t wait forever,” Severus finished. “Go. Call for Tibby if you need to get word to me. He is my house elf, not the school’s so he will be discrete.”

“Ok,” Hermione said as she hefted herself out of the tub, wrapping a towel around herself and turning to face the dark wizard still standing in the tub. “This will work, Severus. It will.”

“Go. Before I tie you to my bed and never let you leave.” The look in Severus’s eyes told her he wasn’t necessarily joking.

Hermione blew him a kiss and left the room, summoning her clothes and her wand and using magic to dry and dress quickly. She took a last look around the room, red ropes scattered around the floor, bed a mess, trunk of toys not quite so ominous when covered in colorful pillows, and then stepped into the sitting room, still devoid of furniture. She swallowed, hard, and then walked determinedly through the room and into Severus’s office. She took a moment to caress the worn top of his desk, smiling at the memories of his mouth on her, erasing her sins better than any holy water, before pushing open the door and stepping out into the hall.

“It’s about time,” came a disjointed voice seconds before a disillusionment charm dropped and Ginny Weasley’s freckled face came into view. “I thought you were never going to hop off Snape’s dick and come out here.”


	12. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny gets her answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual but there is a part 2

Chapter 12: Confrontations

                “Well,” Hermione started, resignation radiating through that single word. “This saves me some time, actually, as I was just on my way to find you.”

                “Great!” Ginny exclaimed. “How ‘bout you step into my office and we have a little chat?” Ginny indicated the closed door of the Potion Master’s office with her chin and an arched eyebrow.

                “Definitely not in there,” Hermione responded. “My dorm.”

                “Afraid I’m going to see Snapey-poo in his skivvies? Promise, ‘Mi, I’m not interested in that. You can have his pale, scrawny arse. I have my own pale, scrawny arsed wizard. Now, in you go, and that is _not_ a request.”

                Hermione could tell that Ginny wasn’t going to budge a single inch unless that inch was just inside the door to Severus’s office, so she huffed her annoyance and spun on her heel to dismantle the wards and lead the redhead inside. She indicated a chair, a hint for Ginny to sit down, and Ginny took the hint. In a very Weasley way. Ginny smirked and sat herself like the queen she was directly in Severus’s chair, propping her feet up on the corner of his desk and twirling a strand of crimson hair around her finger.

                “I sucked his giant cock while he sat in that chair and then he licked every inch of me and fucked me over that desk not 24 hours ago,” Hermione said, voice matter-of-fact and very casual. She failed to contain her smirk when Ginny’s feet dropped to the floor and she practically flew across the office.

                Not to be outdone, Ginny composed herself and then said, equally as blasé, “Well, I would think twice the next time you decide to eat at Harry’s kitchen table. It’s his favorite place to _eat_ , too, if you get what I mean.”

                “As if that was ever a secret!” Hermione laughed. “You were caught at least four times by Ronald alone.” She sat in the seat Ginny had discarded and once again pointed to the chair on the other side of the desk. Ginny took it without hesitation, slouching back and throwing a leg over the arm, perfectly at ease.

                “Yeah, as if that isn’t weird enough, George came in once and was so out of it that he just walked right by us and grabbed a glass of milk. There I am with Harry’s tongue buried in my twat and my big brother is standing at the sink drinking milk! But enough about me and Harry. Giant cock, you said? Do tell…and no, that isn’t a request either.”

                Hermione didn’t want to think about George right now or Harry, her brother in all but blood, and she definitely didn’t want to share some aspects of her sexual encounters with Ginny.

                “I’m not going to give you down and dirty details about my sex life, Gin,” Hermione stated flatly.

                “Great! I don’t really want to hear it. Except about the giant cock. You will definitely have to tell me about that. In detail. Minute, excruciating detail. Like how giant is ‘giant’ really? We’ll get back to that. I do want to know how this all happened and if I need to kick Snape’s ass. If he forced you or coerced you…” Ginny stopped speaking as Hermione barked out a laugh that bordered on a snort.

                “Um, reverse that, Gin. _I_ propositioned _him_.” Hermione was amused at just how wide Ginny’s eyes got.

                “No shit? And he just threw aside his undying love for Harry’s mum just like that? I thought he was all virginal and self-sacrificing or some shit. Speaking of sacrifice, here, since you missed lunch.”

                The younger girl tossed Hermione an apple she dug out of her bag, grinning as her best friend immediately took a huge bite. She waited as patiently as a Weasley and a Gryffindor could while Hermione finished off the apple.

                “Thanks. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

                “Yeah, hours of shagging with giant-cocked virgins will do that to you,” Ginny drawled. “At least he’s a potions master and can brew you an extra, extra, extra strength contraceptive.”

                “He is definitely not a virgin and I’m on the muggle pill, thank you ever so ,” Hermione said, voice growing husky. “And we’re not talking about his thing for Harry’s mum. That is…I don’t know what that is and I’m not talking about that with you when I haven’t even talked about that with him.”

                “So why him? I mean, you didn’t know about the massive member beforehand so there had to be something else about him. His winning personality?” Ginny grinned at her own little joke but Hermione just rolled her eyes.

                “You have to promise not to judge me or him. It isn’t what you think it is and it doesn’t mean what you think it means. Please just listen without flying off the handle,” Hermione begged of her friend, chewing her lip in her anxiety.

                “You’re freaking me out but you know me…judgment free zone here. As long as you’re not, like, using any of these pickled things in jars, I think I can handle whatever it is you’re so worried about telling me.” Ginny sat up and reached her hands across the desk, grabbing both of Hermione’s in support.

                “Seriously, not here. I will tell you everything I can but I can’t do it here. Tibby,” Hermione called. A pop later and the small elf was standing in front of her, awaiting command. “Tibby, can you please take me and my friend to my dorm?”

                The elf placed one gnarled hand atop Ginny’s and Hermione’s, still clasped across the desk, and a pop later they were in Hermione’s room, stumbling onto the floor without a desk and chairs to support them. The elf popped right back out again without a word. Ginny helped Hermione stand and then flopped backwards onto Hermione’s bed, rolling to the side and propping her head up on her hand.

                “I take it the elf is Snape’s? Handy,” Ginny remarked. “Now, spill. Why Snape?”

                Hermione paced, unable to sit still. “He is the most controlled person I know and I needed that. I needed him to take control of me so that I could let go, not think, not have to have all the answers.” Hermione’s eyes begged Ginny’s to understand.

                “So, what? He bosses you around and you do what he says? Like, what do they call it…BSMD?” Ginny’s eyes were clear and earnest, reserving judgment as she promised.

                “BDSM. Yeah, something like that. He tells me what he wants me to do and he does things to me that…God, I didn’t even know I wanted! And my head clears and I’m just in this space where all I have to do is obey and no one wants anything else from me. It’s easy.”

                “But, like, doesn’t that involve pain and…shit, whips and bondage and leather? A lot of leather. I mean, Snape might look pretty hot in some leather pants but I would think that after what that Lestrange bitch did you would steer clear of torture for, like, ever.” Ginny was genuinely confused and concerned for her friend.

                “Yeah, sometimes there is pain. But it’s a good kind of pain, like when you have a new bruise and you can’t stop pressing it. But usually nothing I can’t handle and after this morning I’m not sure he’s going to want to risk it for awhile so…” Hermione wanted to talk about the events of that morning, needed to talk about it, and so she led her Gryffindor friend right where she wanted her.

                _I would have made a great Slytherin,_ she thought as she mentally stuck her tongue out at Severus.

                “What do you mean? What happened this morning?” Ginny’s concern was clear in the way she bolted upright and the slight reddening of her cheeks.

                “Well, last night we made love. In his bed. It was different than what we usually do and I think it scared him. So he did something stupid, as men do, and he had a drink…or a bottle… and he…well, I had told him I was ok with it and so he tied me up. And then he…well the flogger felt fine but the cane…and he didn’t stop…couldn’t stop, I guess, and he didn’t mean to but…” Hermione couldn’t look at Ginny anymore. This was harder than she thought it would be. “He wasn’t in his right mind, Gin. It hurt and I used my safeword and he didn’t stop. Until…well, then he did and he…Gin, he asked me to kill him, like he thought it was the only thing I could do, like it was him or me or something.”

                Hermione stopped pacing and sunk down to the floor, staring ahead but not really seeing anything. “He’s never known anything else and he didn’t know what to do, how to handle it. But I handled it. I did. It’s better now.”

                “What the fuck, ‘Mi? Are you saying he beat you but its ok because he was drunk? How long has his brainwashing been going on? I’ll kill him myself, the bastard. We’re going to McGonagall and you’re going to see Pomfrey and a mind healer because he has gotten into your head but good.” Ginny was up off the bed and pulling Hermione towards the door before Hermione could register what was going on.

                “No! Wait! Gin, you promised to listen. You promised!” Hermione yelled, pulling her arm away from the grip of the younger witch. “I told you it isn’t what you think. Just listen.”

                “No. There is no excuse you can make that will make it ok for him to beat you like that. Nothing makes that ok. And I swear to God, Hermione if you start talking about how you asked for it or you deserved it I am going to hex you to hell and back.” Ginny’s face matched her hair and her eyes were spitting fire.

                “Of course I didn’t deserve it and of course it isn’t ok but you don’t know…I stupefied him. Then I tied him up and…Gin, if you could see. He was like a wounded animal. I don’t think anyone has ever really been kind or loving to him. I broke him, Ginny. His father, Voldemort, life as a spy…and it was _me_ that finally did it. I’m not saying it’s right or justified but I healed easily enough and it won’t happen again and he let me take control and he told me so much… that he’s never told anybody… and he wants a relationship with me. With me, Gin, no one else before me, not since Lily, and he’s so…the scars, Gin. If you only knew what they did to him it would break your heart.”

                Hermione was oblivious to the tears running down her face or the fact that Ginny had ushered her back to the bed, guiding her down to it and crawling in behind her, big spoon to Hermione’s little. Ginny ran her hands through Hermione’s hair and shushed her like one would a babe or a wild horse.

                “What did they do to him?” she asked, afraid of the answer but needing something to help her justify, in her own mind, what Snape had done to her best friend, her sister.

                “His own father, Gin. His own father tried to kill him, tortured him and murdered his mother. Dumbledore used him, asked more of him than he had any right to, and Voldemort…he had to teach new recruits how to torture, using himself as their practice dummy. The burns, Gin, you should see! And he’s never had a relationship before. He’s fucked plenty of women but none have ever wanted him like that, wanted to love him just for him.”

                “But you do,” Ginny guessed. She still didn’t approve or understand what he did and she thought her friend needed some serious counseling if she forgave him for that but maybe…maybe she could look past it…maybe.

                “No. I can’t. Not yet. It’s too soon. I mean, we’ve only been together for three days. I can’t possibly,” Hermione insisted.

                “Three days and you’ve gone from fucking to making love to a relationship. For a man who has never had one before and until recently was devoted to the ghost of Harry’s mum. He’s drunk himself into stupidity over it, lost his shit, which I do not forgive him for and neither should you, gave up his infamous control to you, and shared his past. It seems like you’ve lived a lifetime in three days and a lifetime is definitely long enough to fall in love.”

                Ginny held Hermione close while the other girl came to some hard conclusions. She wanted to be happy for her friend. She wasn’t blind. She knew Hermione wasn’t as put together and happy as she liked to project around the school. She knew the woman was struggling after the war. She knew about George. It wasn’t a coincidence that George and Hermione both started looking more alive and disappearing at the same time over the summer. She was glad that someone was able to snap her brother out of his shell. What she didn’t know was how to help. And though she didn’t approve of what Snape did, and he had better make sure he spent the rest of his life groveling for forgiveness and _never_ doing anything like that _ever_ again or they would _never_ find his body, she was glad something had finally snapped Hermione out of her depression.

                Yeah, the fact that Hermione was a mess of tears and hiccups might not seem to some as if she was healing, but Ginny knew that crying was cathartic and Hermione hadn’t done it since the war ended. She needed this release and if Snape was the one to give her what she needed, so be it.

                “Hermione, luv, think about something for me,” Ginny requested. “If you could go back three days and make a different choice, pick someone else, would you?”

                Hermione shook her head.

                “If you could go forward a decade, would you see yourself with him?”

                Hermione didn’t move. Not a nod. Not a shake. Her breathing sped up and her heart raced and that was all the answer Ginny needed.

                “I can’t say I understand it or that I like it. I’m never going to be ok with him beating you, but to each their own and if that works for you, the whole BD-whatever thing, so be it. If he makes you happy, I’m happy. But if he isn’t making you happy, if this isn’t what you want from your life, end it. Before you get hurt. The real kind of hurt that doesn’t go away that easily. I love you, ‘Mi.”

                “I love you, Gin,” Hermione whispered.

                Ginny held her best friend until she fell asleep, the events of the day wringing every last drop of energy out of her. Then she calmly gathered herself together and exited the room, headed towards the dungeons and a reckoning Snape had coming to him.

 


	13. Confrontations, Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny and Snape have a little talk. Snape finally thinks about contraceptives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of abortion but no details and nobody did it.

Chapter 13: Confrontations, Continued

                Severus told himself he wouldn’t watch the witch leave. He resolutely turned, charming the tub to empty and refill with fresh water. He scrubbed at his skin, following a routine he had kept up for most of his life, washed his hair, which he did quite often because it was fine and tended to look greasy due to all the potion fumes, and then swam a few laps around the pool sized tub. He was just pulling on a pair of sleep pants when he felt his wards unravel, signaling that someone was in his office.

                Severus let his magic trickle out and probe his wards, grinning when he recognized the golden threads of Hermione’s magic but scowling when a fine strand of emerald green flicked through the gold and licked at the smoky strands of his own magic.

                _It seems Miss Weasley grew tired of waiting._

                Severus quickly finished dressing and passed through his bedchamber, pausing only briefly when Hermione’s scent surrounded him. Shaking his head he stepped into his sitting room, confused at its barrenness.

                _Sev, where the hell is the furniture? Think…no, that can wait. Your witch is on the other side of that door with a girl who could take everything from you. Go be a spy. Priorities, Severus._

              Severus crept silently to the door and activated his own listening charms. Spy. Slytherin. Death Eater. Yeah, he had his own listening charms, very much _not_ patent pending.

              “At least he’s a potions master and can brew you an extra, extra, extra strength contraceptive.”

 _Well, shit. Fucking a student, bringing her to your bed, getting drunk and channeling your inner abusive asshole…all of those things were pretty damned stupid but not bothering to check if your_ 19-year-old _lover is taking a contraceptive…you have officially crossed the line into blithering idiot._

             Severus was too busy berating himself to pay attention to the rest of the conversation and only snapped out of it when he heard the distinctive pop of an elf disapparating. He cursed himself for being a shitty spy as well as a shitty dom and then hightailed it to his lab to brew an extra, extra, extra strength contraceptive. And a pregnancy detection potion. And an abortifacient just in case because he wanted her to know that she had options and the choice was hers and he would support her no matter what she chose. And a prenatal potion. Just in case she chose...but why would she? And what if she did?

            The act of brewing kept his mind from devolving once again into madness and he was able to stave off mental images of pale toddlers with wild, black curls and hazel eyes and large noses. Mostly. Every once in a while, usually when he was playing the waiting game at a certain stage of his brewing, thoughts would leak through.

 _Sev, relax. What did you tell your witch? Don’t go looking for trouble. Prepare for every circumstance and then just wait. Just wait while there is a 19-year-old girl…woman…possibly carrying your child…around the school where_ you _teach and she is a_ student _. And how the fuck do you plan on preparing for the possibility of her keeping it, walking around the school round with your baby?_

           Severus was in turn terrified at the idea of being a father, disgusted by the idea of Tobias Snape’s legacy living on, and protective/possessive and oddly turned on by the image of Hermione swollen from his seed. He groaned in frustration as his dick stood up to say hello, a very naked Hermione, breasts and stomach heavy, nipples plump and dark, flashing through his mind.

_Well, that’s a new kink you definitely haven’t tried before._

        He was in the process of determining if he could put his various potions in stasis to take himself in hand when he felt his wards ripple and heard the knocking on the door.

_Emerald. Miss Weasley come to extract her pound of flesh._

       He summoned his robes, wanting to look the part of hated Potions Master and conceal the erection that hadn’t quite gone away, and then stepped through his lab and into the office, flinging open the door with a bang and filling the open frame before the girl could step out of the way. If he was hoping to intimidate the ginger witch, those hopes were dashed immediately as the spirited Gryffindor tossed, not a hex but a fist straight at his nose.

        Luckily for him and his twice broken nose, he grew up in a shithole town where nobody had anything better to do than drink, brawl and boost cars. He dodged her fist and caught her wrist neatly in his own, dragging her into the office and magically slamming the door shut. And locking it. It was the work of a second to shove her into a seat and take his own place behind his desk, as if this was a normal visit between a student and a teacher and not a confrontation between a teacher who was breaking the rules and the best friend of the girl he was breaking them with.

       “Miss Weasley, how may I help you?” he asked, drawing out each word like it pained him to say them.

      “Cut the shit, Snape. It’s hard to be intimidated by you when I know that just a few hours ago you were buried balls deep in my best friend. Leverage tends to give one a sense of… security,” the girl snarled. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t run screaming to McGonagall, or Harry, or Kingsley fucking Shacklebolt and tell them you took advantage of and then beat the hell out of the Golden Girl, one of the saviors of the wizarding world and best friend to Harry-God-given gift to wizardkind-Potter.”

        “I can’t. There are no good reasons, Miss Weasley. What I did was unforgivable. I am deeply sorry for the harm I caused and can only vow that it will never happen again,” Severus replied, tone deep and serious as the grave.

        “Well, now we’re speaking the same language. A Vow is exactly what I want from you,” Miss Weasley said with a smirk.

         “Why do I hear capital letters in that statement, Miss Weasley?” Severus asked.

          “Probably because, this recent development aside, you aren’t actually an idiot,” the young woman replied, voice dripping with smug superiority. And why not? She had him by the balls, so to speak.

          “I want to make sure I understand. You want me to make an Unbreakable Vow…to you. And who would be the bonder? I don’t think you thought this through, Miss Weasley.” Severus pointed out, rather smug himself.

           “You aren’t making the Vow to me. You are going to make it to Hermione and I will be the bonder. How is that for thinking it through? And then maybe the next time you get a little scared of honest emotions and possible commitment, you’ll think twice before picking up a bottle and then whatever demon you have buried down deep under that pale skin of yours will stay there.”

            Miss Weasley slouched down into the chair, throwing her legs over one arm and crossing her arms over her chest, looking for all the world as if she had every right to be there and they weren’t currently discussing…what they were discussing. Severus thought about it, remembered the compulsion to fulfill the vow and the horror at the thought of fulfilling the vow. The helplessness he felt, all control stripped from him as he was unable to act how he wanted if the vow deemed it outside the allowable parameters. It was oppressive and for someone with control issues, it was akin to torture.

             “I have lived nearly 20 years under the pressure of vows made. I don’t relish making another one. But if it is what Hermione needs to feel safe, then so be it. I care for naught but her welfare,” Severus confessed and conceded. He looked away when Miss Weasley’s eyes softened and shone with knowledge she shouldn’t have but he couldn’t fault his witch for giving her.

            “I believe you,” the supine girl admitted. “I don’t want to. I want to hate you. I want to tear you limb from limb and scatter your pieces all over Great Britain for what you did to her. And maybe it’s the Slytherin or the Death Eater or the spy just pulling one over on me but I believe you. So I’m going to leave you to it. I’ll see you soon to bond that Vow for you. Just know that I’m watching you and if you hurt her, beyond her limits or whatever you people call it, I will watch you die, drowning in your own blood and enjoy every second of it.”

              Neither of them missed the reference to his near fatal snake bite and how Hermione had actually watched him ‘die’ drowning in his own blood. Or, she thought he was dead anyway.

              “If I hurt her I will gladly accept that consequence. I…” Severus paused, not sure if he should be revealing anything else to this girl. “I feel… I have feelings for…I care deeply for her, Miss Weasley.”

                “Well, I’m pretty sure she ‘cares deeply’ for you, too so don’t fuck it up,” Weasley said, hopping gracefully from her seat and heading for the door. She turned to face Severus, hand wrapped around the door knob. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what life did to you and I’m glad you two found each other. She’s better with you. I don’t know, maybe it’s the control thing, or maybe it’s because you need her but don’t expect anything from her. But she’s better, so, thanks for that, I guess.”

                She left before Severus could respond. He stayed seated at his desk, dropping his head down onto its flat surface and closing his eyes in utter exhaustion, mental, physical, and emotional, until he could get his breathing under control and his heart rate slowed.

                _She cares deeply for me. She’s better with me. She cares for me. I’m to be bonded to her…unbreakable…bonded to her._

                And the image of a naked Hermione, belly softly rounded, breasts swaying as she bent over the edge of a bed and he spanked her bottom pink, rose up in his mind. Again the want mixed with terror and he shook his head to clear the image just in time for his internal alarm to remind him he had potions to finish brewing. And furniture to find, he reminded himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Hermione awoke to an empty room and a bad feeling. A bad feeling that had her calling for Tibby once more and apologizing profusely for using the elf like a taxi service. An apology that the elf neither accepted nor rejected, popping in and out without a word.

                Hermione stood in Severus’s office, outside the door to what had to be his lab, and smelled the distinct aroma of a contraceptive potion. All 5th, 6th, and 7th year students were subjected to the horrors of sex ed with Madame Pomfrey, which included instruction in how to brew that particular potion.

                Curious, Hermione entered his lab and then stood watching while her lover proved why he was a master. He moved with such grace and ease, from cauldron to cauldron, stirring here, adding there, chopping at yet another. His hand summoned ingredients in a blink and he didn’t follow a set of instructions that she could see; he did it all from memory. She was awed, to say the least.

                Not wanting to disturb him too much, she gently cleared her throat from the doorway.

                “I knew you were here as soon as you crossed the wards, Hermione,” Severus said, not pausing his movements. “I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk.”

                “Are you stocking up the hospital wing, Severus?” Hermione inquired. “Can I help?”

                “No,” Severus replied. “I should have thought of this sooner and it might already be too late but I have brewed a pregnancy detection potion for you. If it is negative, then I have probably the world’s strongest contraceptive here. If it is positive, depending on your choice, I have…other potions. I am sorry to have been so careless and to take it for granted that you were protected. As your dominant I should have-“

                “Lover,” Hermione interjected. “I prefer the term ‘lover’ since there are times when you are not my dominant and we are in a relationship that, while unconventional, is not a typical dom/sub relationship, either.”

                “As your lover, then, and one with more years and experience, I should have-“

                “I’m a big girl, Sev, and am just as responsible, if not more so since it is _my_ body we’re talking about,” Hermione interrupted again. “I’m on the pill.”

                “While that is a relief, it is not as effective as the potion and I would be more comfortable if-“ Severus waved his hand towards the detection potion but left it at that.

                “Of course,” Hermione conceded and Severus immediately decanted some of the swirling lilac mixture, handing it to Hermione and waiting while she swallowed it down. “Ugh, how can something so pretty taste so god awful?”

                They both waited, staring at her stomach as if it held all of the answers to life’s most important questions. Why are we here? Does God exist? Why does the toast always land butter side down? After an eternity that was really more like five minutes, her stomach started to glow crimson. It was negative. Hermione knew it would be and looked at Severus’s face, hoping to catch his eye and give her one of his patented dunderhead eyebrow arches but stopped short at the look of…almost disappointment…on his face. It was quickly replaced by relief and she convinced herself she imagined it. After all, they had been together three days and that was definitely not enough time to be thinking about babies.

                “I would like for you to take the contraceptive potion in addition to your muggle means,” Severus said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

                “Ok, Severus. If it makes you feel safer.”

                “Miss Weasley stopped by. She was concerned for your safety,” Severus admitted to his young lover.

                “I’m sorry about that. She tends to go off the deep end. I hope she didn’t hex you or anything,” Hermione said, voice laced with concern.

                “As if she could, Hermione. No, she just strongly suggested that if I didn’t Vow to never harm you she would take what she knows of us to anyone who would listen and possibly make my life hell.”

                “Why do I hear a capital letter in that sentence?” Hermione asked, confused when Severus merely laughed. “Do you mean she wants you to make an Unbreakable Vow to me?”

                “So it appears. I, of course, agreed. If I ever hurt you like that again I would gladly seek my death. I refuse to be like my father and I will not subject a woman I…care for…to that treatment, that life.” Severus wouldn’t meet her eyes. Hermione suspected it was because he was feeling a bit vulnerable at admitting her cared for her.

                “I don’t need your Vow, Severus. I trust you and I…care… for you, too. You know what I do need?” she asked. His eyes snapped to hers, interest piqued. “Not _that_! Well, not just that. I mean dinner. We never ate lunch and I’m starving.”

                “Would you care to join me for dinner in the sitting room and. See. Where. It. Goes?” Severus asked, extending his hand to the witch who had crawled inside his head and his heart in such a short time.

                 “Did you replace the furniture?” Hermione asked, curious as to how he had gotten rid of it in the first place. "I tried every revealing, repairing,  and unshrinking spell I could think of and _nothing worked."_

            “Actually, perhaps we can picnic in front of the fire and you could assist me. I seem to have banished the furniture, or something, in my drunken state and can't remember how or where.”

            Hermione tried. She really did. But there was no help for it. Her laughter rang out through the room, washing over Severus and pushing him that much closer to the edge of...more than caring.


	14. Hermione's Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos. I am sorry for the delay in updating.

Chapter 14: Hermione's Week

                Hermione was curled up in her bed on Friday night, wearing one of Severus’s shirts, filched when he wasn’t looking, counting the minutes until she could see him again and thinking about the events of the past week, starting with Monday. She felt as if she had lived a month in one day, with all of the physical and emotional ups and downs. It was hard to reconcile the terrible beginning of the day with the sweet end that it had come to.

                She had returned to his sitting room, both of them working together to locate and restore his furniture and meeting with partial success. His liquor cabinet remained missing, though Hermione expected that might have been done very much on purpose by Severus. She wasn’t complaining about the turn of events and would be happy to never see another drop of liquor pass his lips again.

                Not that she was naïve enough to believe the liquor was the only thing to blame for his behavior. Obviously there were some demons buried deep under the fanatically controlled man. Who’s to say that those demons wouldn’t come back out? He had admitted he had never been in a relationship before. All of his interactions had been strictly dom/sub, methodically and meticulously planned and carried out, no chance of losing control. Relationships were messy and rarely followed the plan you had for them. Maybe the first time they disagreed the demon would come out again. It was a risk to take but she felt it was worth it.

                There was just so much more to him than she thought. He was a complicated mess and she was a complicated mess but together they created something beautiful. After restoring his furniture they had eaten a cold dinner of deli meats and cheeses, crackers, and fruit, a true picnic meal, and talked. Just talked. They kept things light, having had enough heavy conversations that afternoon to last _a while_. She learned his favorite food was chocolate in any form, though he rarely indulged because he felt that eating sweets in front of the students might cost him his hard won reputation as a miserable bastard. He also drank tea with his meals, hot and black in the mornings and iced and sickeningly sweet in the evenings, like an American.

                They’d talked about books because of course they did, but they kept it about literature and left all academia out of the conversation. She was surprised to find he enjoyed muggle science fiction novels and she grudgingly admitted that she enjoyed trashy romance novels. He got her to promise to reenact one of the sex scenes with him someday and she did so only after he promised to read it to her first, in that ridiculously sexy voice of his.

                She had learned he enjoyed quidditch, very much, though he hadn’t wanted to play it in any formal capacity. He also liked football, not American, and baseball, very American, which he watched when he was home during the summer break on an old black and white television. He grudgingly admitted he also enjoyed watching cooking shows, likening it to brewing, except the end results usually tasted quite a bit better than any potion. Hermione owned up to being a horrible cook and that, apparently, was unacceptable to Severus because before she knew it they were standing in the Hogwarts kitchens and he was patiently teaching her how to make a simple stew while the elves watched on, wringing their ears and generally at a loss as to what to do about the situation.

                They had eaten the stew, not wanting to be wasteful and hungry again after a few hours of conversation and a fairly light dinner. Then Hermione had followed behind Severus back to his rooms, where he slowly undressed her, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed to him, and pulled her onto his lap on the couch, where she rode him soft and slow, mouths fused together, until they both came. She wanted to stay the night but knew that they needed to be careful about what risks they took and she couldn’t risk not being in her dorm if someone came to call. So she dressed, swiped his shirt when he was in the loo, and had Tibby shuttle her once more to her own room and her cold and lonely bed.

                She’d wrapped herself in his shirt, his scent, and crawled into bed, feeling as if she could sleep for a week straight but she merely tossed and turned, reliving the day, worrying about tomorrow, wondering how they were going to continue on without getting caught. It was so much and her brain just _had_ to process all of it. Before she knew it, dawn was kissing the sky and another day called for her.

                The week had passed slowly. She had barely seen Severus on Tuesday, not having class with him and needing to content herself with sideways glances during meals. When he had entered her room very late, after his rounds, she had jumped him, tearing at his robes and mouth while he ripped her sleep shorts from her body. It had been messy and frantic, with Hermione bent over her bed, sash from her bathrobe standing in for proper ropes and holding her hands tight to the post, as he pounded into her from behind, two fingers buried in her ass. She had screamed her orgasm, only thinking much later about silencing charms. He had pulled out and come all over her ass and lower back, marking her as his, and once again asking that she not wash it away until the following evening.

                Wednesday was the hardest day. It was her first chance to sit in class with him since…well, since and she wouldn’t be seeing him after rounds as he had a required faculty meeting to attend and would be unable to get away. She had arrived in the middle of a group of students, not trusting herself to be alone with him, and sat alone in the back, not her usual spot. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything. She zoned out listening to his voice as he lectured about the day’s potion and just let the rich timber of his words wash over her and send shivers down her spine and sticky wetness into her knickers. By the time he was done with instructions, she was a squirming mess of throbbing need, panting for air and squeezing her thighs together, tightly, trying to get some sort of friction, some sort of relief. At least she had thought to cast a Notice-Me-Not so that the others weren’t privy to her embarrassing display.

                He had made his rounds of the class per usual and stopped at her table, able to easily ignore the compulsion to look away from her, loomed over her and breathed in slowly through his nose. He smirked and leaned in close to whisper in her ear about how much he enjoyed smelling her fresh arousal and his dried spunk. He teased her about the others being able to smell it, panting after her like dogs on a scent, wanting to taste her sweet cream. Hermione was just barely holding it together when she felt his hand slide up the back of her thigh until his fingers were pressed against the soaked gusset of her knickers. He had wriggled his hand inside and pressed his fingers insistently against her swollen and distended clitoris, rubbing in quick circles until she came, hard, his large hand slapping over her mouth just in time to muffle her shout.

                As she stared at him, eyes wide and gasping for breath, he had brought his hand, covered in her juices, to his face, inhaling deeply before licking his hand clean, even in between his fingers, all while maintaining eye contact. And then he continued his rounds as if their little encounter had never happened and he hadn’t just left one of his students in a rather delicate state in the back of the room. It was dirty and dangerous, doing that with 20 other people in the room, a weak Notice-Me-Not the only thing keeping them from discovery. Hermione had loved it and was looking forward to paying him back during class on Friday.

                Thursday was much like Tuesday, stolen glances their only contact. She craved his presence. They hadn’t had a chance to actually talk and just be since Monday and she wanted to see how he was doing since their emotional confrontation. She wanted to talk to him and share dinner if that was what he needed. She wanted to hold him and comfort him if that was what he needed. She wanted to kneel at his feet if _that_ was what he needed. She just wanted to be needed by him as much as she needed him and, _God,_ how she needed him. She had snuck down to his office after curfew and let herself in, wrapping herself in the smell of him, left behind on every surface of the room after nearly 20 years of use by one person. She was debating entering his private rooms when he entered the office from the hallway.

                She had a decision to make about what she wanted the evening to be. Stay and kneel, pass through the door and see where they ended up, or continue on to his bed and take charge? She had still been presenting pros and cons of each choice in her head when he had taken the decision out of her hands by the simple expediency of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his bed, setting her down and kneeling at her feet, ‘Mistress’ rolling from his mouth like thunder. She had enjoyed ordering him to pleasure her, coming on his fingers, restricting him from touching her before riding his face and coming on his tongue and his truly perfect nose, and fucking herself on his cock, pinching and pulling at her nipples and frigging her clit until she came, before giving him permission to come and watching him wank so she could learn what he liked, all with Friday in mind, of course. She had taken her role seriously and had bathed him from scalp to toes and everywhere in between before casting a bubble head charm and sucking his cock until he released down her throat, hands tangled in her hair and her name spilling from his lips. That night she slept in his bed, curled around him, one leg pressed between his and her nose buried between his shoulder blades.

              She had awakened in her own bed, however, and sighed before grinning as she remembered that it was Friday and she would be able to pay Severus back for Wednesday. She had showered and groomed herself, pulling her hair up in a messy knot on her head, slathering her entire body with lotion and using a depilatory charm to tidy up her legs, underarms and pubis. Then she had dressed carefully, glad that the weather was getting cooler as Halloween approached and no one would think twice about her robes being buttoned all the way up. She transfigured her black knee high socks to resemble thigh high sheer stockings with a rose pattern, held up with a sticking charm, pulled on a pair of black lace knickers with a rose embroidered directly over her mons, and hooked herself into the matching balconette, her cleavage bursting over the top and nipples barely concealed by tiny embroidered roses. She slipped on her blouse, only fastening it at the top so she could put on her tie, buttoned her robe so her collar peeked over the top, and inspected herself in the mirror, noting that she didn’t look as if she was nearly nude underneath.

                Walking around all morning, since she had double potions in the afternoon on Friday’s, with barely any clothes on, knickers rubbing deliciously against her newly bared pussy, was nerve wracking and liberating in turns. By the time class had come around, she had had to cast drying and freshening charms on her knickers twice and had even snuck off to a rarely used loo to frig herself silly right before lunch, forgetting all about Severus’s rule about controlling her orgasms. And then, finally, it had been time for class. Hermione sat right up front this time, spilling her supplies across the table to discourage people from trying to join her. She knew the opposite table was rarely occupied as it was closest to his desk and nobody like to be that close to the line of fire. That meant that no one would be able to see her front and she was sure that a notice-me-not and a muffliato would be enough to ensure she could carry out her plan.

                And she did. Slowly as he stood in front of the class, giving instructions, her tie unknotted, collar unbuttoned, and robe parted to reveal the tops of her breasts in their pretty black wrappings. She had smiled internally as she heard his speech pause momentarily before he cleared his throat and continued. She stood back a bit from the table so there wasn’t much blocking his view. She ran her finger between her breasts, traced the edge of her bra and dipped a finger inside to circle her nipple lazily. She repeated the action on her other breast, aware that he was watching her from the corner of his eye, before trailing her hand down her stomach, parting her robe further to reveal her pretty panties to him. He instructed the class to begin and stood, seemingly supervising the chaos of students vying for entrance to the store room for supplies while all the while watching Hermione’s hand like a hawk.

              She had grabbed the front of her panties and tugged them up, the gusset parting her pussy lips and pressing deliciously against her clit. She tugged harder until the gusset completely disappeared and her newly hairless cunt was fully on display. Hermione rolled her hips, grinding against the hard rope of her knickers, free hand sliding down to spread her lips open and show Severus her glistening folds. It didn’t take long after that for Severus to flick his hand, closing her robes, before verbally eviscerating her for being so _arrogant_ as to assume she could pass his class without actually brewing the assigned potion and personally escorting her to the storeroom, in case she had somehow forgotten where it was.

              He had cast his own charm to keep the class oblivious and pushed her in the room where he had her against the shelf, knickers off and his tongue buried in her quim almost before the door finished closing. She came in minutes and then dropped to her knees, spread his robed open, released his cock from his trousers and attempted to replicate his hand movements to get him off. When his release came, she caught it in her mouth, showed him his seed lying like pearls on her tongue, and looked him in the eye while she swallowed. She had been a bit surprised when he hauled her up and kissed her. She tasted herself on his tongue and was sure he tasted himself too. The combination made her head swim.

           He had growled, “tonight, my office” before righting their clothing and exiting the room, her knickers in his pocket. She had gathered her needed supplies and brewed the required potion, acutely aware of the wet stickiness trickling down her thighs. The rest of the day was torture. Sitting in the Great Hall during dinner and making small talk with Ginny when all she wanted to do was run down to the dungeons and fall at Severus’s feet. Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, after running back to her room and throwing on some lounge pants and _his_ shirt, though she wasn’t going to tell anyone that, making more small talk with people she hadn’t much in common with. Laying in her bed and casting a tempus every five minutes, waiting until after 10 when all rule breakers had been caught by prefects or teachers on rounds and she could safely sneak down to her lover.

        Finally, it was time. Hermione snapped herself out of her stroll down memory lane and hopped out of bed. She hastily threw off _his_ shirt and slipped on a soft cotton t-shirt over her lounge pants, knowing that she was going to end up naked about 3 seconds after entering his office and so didn’t need to put much effort into her wardrobe. She pulled her hair up into a slightly less messy knot, brushed her teeth in case she ended up staying the night, and disillusioned herself for her walk down to the dungeons. She didn’t even knock. She entered the room, divested herself of her clothes and assumed her submissive position.

        “Did you enjoy behaving like a whore in my classroom, pet?” slithered over her skin from the darkest corner of the room. “Or mayhap, I should be asking what you were enjoying before you came to my class. I tasted you, pet. There was both sweet…and sour…new orgasm and old. You have been a naughty girl.”

         It was at that moment Hermione remembered the rule about her orgasms belonging to him. Her eyes widened but she remained quiet.

        “Nothing to say? No defense to give? Perhaps the paddle will loosen your tongue. Bend over my desk and place your hands behind your back.”

        Hermione rushed to comply, a little nervous about receiving a spanking after the events of Monday. He bound her hands with something silky, standing so close to her that she could feel the wool of his robes brushing the back of her thighs. She shivered as his hand rubbed a circle on her right ass cheek before he lightly slapped it. The sting was nice but she wanted more.

        “I will give you ten warm up hits with my hand. You will count them. Then I will strike you twenty times with the paddle. Do you consent? Answer,” he commanded. His voice was completely neutral, giving no sign as to his mental or emotional state.

       “Yes, Master,” she agreed breathlessly.

        The first hit was hard enough to slam her hips into the edge of the desk. She whimpered from the unexpected pain.

        “Is there a problem, Miss Granger? Perhaps you would like to…confess…something. No? Very well then. Count, pet,” Severus reminded her.

        “One,” she said, hesitantly. He wasn’t allowing her to speak, yet somehow expected some kind of answer from her. It was almost as if he didn’t want her to defend herself, like he needed to punish her.

        The next blow landed just as hard as the first. And the next. And the next. Hermione’s hips were scraped raw by the edge of the desk and her rear was feeling very warm by the time she counted ten.

       “The paddle is next. Have you something to admit, to atone for, before we begin?” Again he wouldn’t let her speak. She felt a broad wooden slab against the heat of her ass and decided to risk it.

     “I’m sorry for making myself come in the girl’s lavatory on the 5th floor. I’m sorry for walking around the school in nothing but my lingerie and a robe. That was unladylike. I’m sorry for _acting like a whore_ in your class and teasing you in front of your students,” she said in a rush of breath.

     The paddle halted and the room went still. “You made me lose control, Miss Granger, and while the end result was quite enjoyable, I cannot let it go unpunished. The agreement was that you were in control in my bedroom and only in my bedroom. You broke many rules, pet, and so…the paddle.”

      “I understand, Master, but perhaps…a cushioning charm for my hips,” Hermione suggested.

     The paddle landing across her left cheek was answer enough.

     “One.”


	15. Lesson Taught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns that Severus is very serious about the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting. This has been a really crappy month. My niece went in for outpatient surgery and ended up on a feeding tube. No sooner she gets home, she and my sister end up with flu and back in hospital. My husband's uncle had surgery, ended up back in hospital due to fatigue, generalized pain, and lack of appetite. 3 weeks later he was in hospice and we were just praying it would end soon. Been dealing with his affairs and helping out his widow since. My aunt, who is like a mom to me, has apparently been lying about her cancer diagnosis. She isn't getting better. She's terminal and not expected to make it to summer. All in all, this month has sucked. So, I'm sorry and thank you for your patience.

Chapter 15: Lesson Taught

                Hermione took to the paddle beautifully. Her gorgeous ass bounced with each blow, red blossoming out and turning her bum a beautiful shade of Christmas crimson, like a present all wrapped up and waiting for him to open it. Severus did not fail to notice that with each blow the witch hissed in pain but where her head protested, her body told the truth, back arching and legs spreading just a bit further with each _smack_ of wood on flesh, a dewy pearl of arousal peeking through her hairless folds.

And wasn’t that a shock, the sight of her womanhood stripped bare? While her wanton behavior certainly had him standing at attention, as it were, he did not find her smooth sex to be particularly appealing, being far too reminiscent of a child for his taste. He had not lied when he had told the curly-haired witch that he did not fuck schoolgirls. In fact, even at nineteen she was the youngest woman he had ever been with and that included when he, himself, was a teenager.

He decided he would use his punishment as a teaching opportunity. After the last blow, paddle _thwacking_ smartly across her left cheek, her breath stuttering out of her as she grunted the count, he set the paddle aside and placed his large hands on her reddened skin. He smirked evilly as she whimpered when his hands squeezed the globes roughly, his blunt nails digging into her bottom before he separated the mounds, revealing more of her sweet cunt and her rosette to his gaze.

“Tell me, pet, what made you think I would want you to resemble a little girl. Do you think that little of me, after I told you I do not engage schoolgirls?” Severus noted the infinitesimal stiffening of her spine and the sudden intake of breath. “Or did you forget that your body belongs to me? You do nothing without my permission, pet, and yet today you stripped away the mark of your womanhood, wandered the halls dressed like a tart, touched what is _mine_ in the girl’s lavatory, and exposed yourself in my classroom, where others could have seen what belongs to me, and me alone. A lesson must be taught here, Miss Granger, and isn’t it fortuitous that I happen to be a professor?”

Severus buried his face in her body, tongue lashing at her dripping quim and nose stimulating her puckered hole. He pulled the juicy globes of her ass further apart, grunting as she whimpered, and attacked her core, applying more pressure with his nose and thrusting his tongue deep into her hot channel, lapping at her juices, teeth tugging at her labia, sucking at her clit, humming against her and enjoying every whine, moan, sigh, grunt, and keen that spilled from her lips. When her breathing started to stutter and halt and her muscles to contract, he pulled back, abruptly cutting her off from her impending orgasm and smirking as she cried out at the loss.

“I think control is an appropriate punishment for a little girl who can’t seem to control herself. I believe a week would be sufficient, don’t you agree? Yes, a week should do it,” Severus drawled, voice dripping with dark promise before he once again delved into the warm, wet depths of Hermione’s perfect pussy. He took her to the edge over and over with his tongue and teeth, his fingers and his voice, playing her cunt like an instrument, rimming her rosette until she was a sobbing, begging mess, _please_ falling from her lips like a prayer.

Severus grabbed his witch and turned her onto her back, immensely pleased with her blotched and puffy face and the redness on her chest caused by rubbing across the surface of his desk for…he glanced at the small clock on a nearby bookshelf…just over an hour. He was less pleased with the raw, bleeding lacerations across her hipbones. He would take care of those momentarily. But first…

“Do. Not. Come,” he ordered before releasing his hard-as-steel erection, grabbing her behind the knees, and thrusting into her swollen pussy, immediately setting a fast, hard pace. Hermione’s walls started to flutter around his cock and he pushed harder and deeper, releasing her knees to twist her nipples cruelly. “Do. Not. Come,” he repeated through gritted teeth. The flutters increased. “You will regret it if you disobey me, pet.”

Her cunt felt amazing wrapped so tightly around his cock, juices sloshing as he plunged over and over into her body, bumping her cervix and scraping against her walls. He grabbed her knees again, bringing both of her legs together over his left shoulder before leaning forward, bending her in half and tightening her core further. He changed rhythm, rolling his hips into her, rubbing her g-spot and putting an unbelievable amount of pressure on his sensitive head. He was going to come soon and he wasn’t sure if he wanted Hermione to pass this lesson or fail. If she passed, he would take care of her and explain the rest of his lesson while they soaked in his tub and then he would take her to his bed and sleep wrapped around her like a blanket. If she failed, he would force orgasm after orgasm onto her until she truly broke. And then he would explain the rest of his lesson to her while they soaked in his tub. Either scenario worked for him.

His balls tightened and he felt his head swell further. His witch was crying, head thrashing from side to side. She was actually pushing her legs against him as if trying to escape the sensations he was causing in her. He solved that by shoving her legs to the side, knees pressed to the desk. He kept his left hand on her thighs, immobilizing her while he jackhammered into her sensitive flesh. His pretty pet whined as he pounded her pussy until finally, finally he reached his peak.

“Do. Not. Come,” he roared as he tumbled over the edge, shooting hot jets of semen deep into her tight little body.

Hermione’s body betrayed her, clamping down onto his cock as a wave of pleasure rolled over her, tightening every muscle in her body and forcing a primal scream from her throat. She twisted her entire body to the side, teeth clenched and back arched, legs drawn up into the fetal position. He just barely refrained from collapsing on top of her. The only thing that kept him standing under his own power was his desperate need to maintain control. He allowed himself to soften until he left her body with a wet plop, stepping back enough to see his cum dripping out of her beautifully red quim as it contracted in forbidden fulfillment.

“Oh, pet, I am so… disappointed,” Severus chastised when he regained his breath.

“I’m sorry, Master,” Hermione gasped out. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t…I’m sorry.”

“Not yet, Miss Granger. Not yet,” Severus growled. “But you will be.”

Severus grabbed the witch by her hair, wrapping it around his fist and tugging until she inevitably followed her head and rolled onto her stomach as best she could. He wasted no time in releasing her hands, summoning more silken chords, spreading her legs, bending them back on themselves and frog tying her. Then he quickly plaited her long hair and tugged her head back, putting a curve in her spine that was probably highly uncomfortable. He held her pose by the simple expediency of tying her plait to the chord stretched between her biceps. If he wanted, he could suspend her from the ceiling, but he was leery of trying that after her first and last experience. Instead, he grabbed her feet and sent her spinning around until her head was turned towards him, upturned face level with his dick, though he would have to bend forward if he wanted to shove it down her throat.

 _Later,_ he thought to himself.

“Remember your safe words, Miss Granger, for you may want to use them before I am through with you.” Severus tried to maintain his stern expression as he watched the trussed up woman’s eyes go impossibly wide. “I commanded you not to come thrice and you disobeyed me. Since you are so intent on your own pleasure to the point that you cannot exert even a modicum of self control, I will give you what you want…so…badly. You will orgasm three more times, pet, before I am ... _satisfied_.”

He was pretty sure he heard her whimper. He was less sure if it was in anticipation or dismay. He was absolutely positive he didn’t care which. He was very much looking forward to this. Where to begin? He needed some tools of the trade, choosing to retrieve them the muggle way, leaving her tied atop his desk to stew in her own anxiety.

He took his time sorting through his “toy box” at the foot of his bed, discarding some and placing others in a pile of possibilities. Still others were sent to hover behind his head, those special toys that made the cut for the evening. He made it to the bottom of the chest and stripped himself down to his shirt and trousers, untucking and unbuttoning the former, before venturing back into his office to the witch awaiting his dominance, his punishment.

Hermione was right where he left her, though her body was vibrating with tension and her eyes were wildly flittering around the room, searching for him perhaps. He padded silently on bare feet, clamps, plugs, vibrators, and various other accoutrements trailing obediently along behind him, until he once again stood pelvis-to-face with the bound witch. He let his implements of pleasure pass in front of her eyes as they came to rest on the desktop and didn’t bother hiding his smirk as her eyes grew even wider and her mouth fell open in shock and a healthy dollop of lust and fear.

Severus didn’t speak, didn’t try to explain, didn’t compliment or insult. He simply conjured a blindfold and covered up Hermione’s hazel eyes, hiding away her fear, lust, trust, and anything else she might throw at him through the brown, green and gold depths. He wanted her to _feel_ everything he was doing to her and he wanted her own anxiety about what he would do next to heighten every sensation. He would have liked to have taken her hearing away, but she had not agreed to that and so he did the only thing he could that was within the limits. He placed a cushioning charm on his feet and a silencing charm on his clothing and his toys so that he could move as stealthily as possible and vowed that he would not speak unless to give a command or if his words would bring about a desired result he could not achieve otherwise.

He started with his fingers, deciding that he would alternate between gentle caresses and…not-so-gentle. He used his fingertips to bring her nipples to hardened peaks, circling softly around her areolas in ever-tightening loops until he got to the stiff nubs in the center, flicking lightly with his nails and waiting for her breathy whimper before quickly pinching each bud with a small, weighted clamp, shaped like a snake, of course. Her breathy whimper morphed into a hiss of pain which changed again into a pant as the adrenaline and endorphins kicked in and her brain translated the signals of pain into little electric shocks of pleasure. Stretching between each snake head was a chain; Severus gave a little tug and twist of the chain and grinned as his little witch mewled like a kitten and the scent of feminine arousal permeated the air. He added nipple clamps to his mental checklists of things Hermione liked.

Severus circled around to the other side of the desk, taking care not to touch the witch or bump the desk and give away his location. When he finally stood behind her, once again feasting his eyes on her delectable derriere and slickened slit, he realized that her petite stature was causing a bit of a logistics problem. Namely, there was too much desk and not enough height between where he stood and where her quivering quim was awaiting him.

 _Thank Merlin for magic, Sev,_ he thought as he narrowed and slightly raised one end of the desk, the end facing him, until he had her just where he needed her to be. It wasn’t raised enough to send her sliding off the other end, nor any of his toys, but cast an _arresto_ just in case. Of course, with her thighs unsupported, the chords tying her arms to her ankles were doing double the work and would quickly turn quite painful. _Again, magic for the win._ Severus cast a localized levitation charm on her thighs and, finally satisfied, set his large hands once more on her reddened cheeks. _There’s that hiss and whimper again._

Severus massaged her backside, lubricating his hands with a charm so they glided smoothly across her skin, letting his fingers dip occasionally into the crack of her ass or graze slightly against her dewy folds, until she was arching toward his touch as much as she could in that position and whining. Soundlessly, he grabbed a metal plug, sucking it into his mouth to warm it up before sliding it unceremoniously into her puckered hole, pushing past the tight ring of muscles without giving her time to adjust. Gentle followed by not-so-gentle. Hermione made a very interesting sound that started as a squeak and ended in a grunt with a sort of _aack_ thrown in the middle. He bit his cheek to keep from laughing.

Leaving the plug where it was, for now, he set his gentle touch upon her pretty pussy, using his right hand to spread her labia apart and sending the fingers of his left exploring. He traced her entire cunt, tugging on her labia, dipping into her warm hole, scraping his nails lightly against her spongy walls, circling her clit before tugging on it, rolling it, flicking it, and dragging his thumb up over it, and pulling up the hood and further exposing her erect nub to his ministrations. By this time she was keening like a wounded animal and her walls clamped down on the three fingers he suddenly thrust inside her. He did away with soft and sweet touches and fucked her with his fingers, his knuckles slamming into her distended clit again and again, her weighted and clamped nipples swinging with the force of each thrust and sending jolts of pleasure/pain to her nervous system.

He contemplated edging her as he had done when the night started but discarded the thought. He wanted her to learn that her orgasms belonged to him. He could withhold them or grant them as he saw fit. He had already shown her how he could keep them from her for over an hour. He had promised her three orgasms and he was going to get those three orgasms, whether she had them left to give or not. So Severus kept pumping his fingers in an out, finding the hardened spot inside that was sure to send those I’ve-got-to-pee-right-now sensations straight to her clit.

“Come, pet,” he commanded in his silkiest purr. And just like that, his glorious witch came, screaming his name and gushing her release onto his hand and the front of his trousers.

He had the forethought to slam his free hand against the end of the anal plug to keep it in place and could feel the force of her orgasm trying to push the object out of her tight passage. Before her spasms ended, he grabbed a curved phallus, meant to stimulate the g-spot, and slowly and gently inserted it into her still-dripping pussy. He was slow and gentle out of necessity, as her walls were so swollen he could barely fit the vibrator in, working in counterpoint to the milking movements of her vaginal walls, pushing further in when they relaxed and stilling as they contracted again. After a few moments, the dildo was in to the hilt and he imagined his cheeky witch was feeling very full.

He set the dildo and the anal plug to a low-level vibration. It wasn’t enough to get her off, but it was enough to keep her riding the edge until he was ready to shove her over. It was time to be gentle again, Severus holding to his plan like a steadfast Gryffindor. He began placing lingering, open mouthed kisses over every single inch of skin he could reach, even sucking her fingertips into his mouth. When he had covered her arms, legs, back, and bum with his wet kisses, he moved around in front of her, seating himself in his office chair to better reach her face. Butterfly kisses were left across her brow and down the bridge of her nose. He sipped at the seam of her lips but did not enter her waiting mouth. He nipped at her jaw, sucked on the sensitive tendons of her neck and licked across her collar bone.

She was a panting mess, her entire body soft and relaxed as much as it could be frog-tied as she was, just where he wanted her. He stood, glad he had lowered this side of the desk as it put her head at the appropriate angle for what he was planning next. Caressing her face with his fingertips, he lowered her jaw, releasing his raging hard-on with one hand before massaging her throat with his thumbs. Once again thanking the heavens for magic, he simultaneously set the plug and dildo to a higher vibration and charmed them to thrust in tandem, while releasing the nipple clamps and sending the blood careening back to the tips of her breasts in a near-orgasmic rush of sensation, and shoving his swollen cock deep into her relaxed throat.

Knowing already what she could handle, Severus did not show mercy. He fucked her throat as her ass and cunt were being fucked. He released the knot in her hair, burying one hand in the tangled plait at the base of her head and holding her still for his invasion. She had instinctively shielded her teeth and stuck out her tongue, laving his shaft like a perverted dick-shaped popsicle. Severus concentrated on not shooting down her throat, still needing to wring two more orgasms from her before he could release himself once more inside his witch.

Ramping up the vibration even higher as well as the speed of the thrusting toys and charming them to gradually increase until their movements were but a blur and the vibrations could be heard through the silencing charm, Severus pulled out of Hermione’s mouth, ripping away her blindfold and staring deeply into her eyes as he wrapped his long fingers around her throat and squeezed. He watched her eyes glaze over, all traces of color obscured by the blackness of her blown pupils, and waited…waited…waited….there! He released her throat just as she started to black out, demanding “Again” in his deepest, most primal growl, and hurling her headfirst into an incredibly intense orgasm. She would have screamed if she had had any breath left. As it was, her entire body shook as if in seizure and forcefully expelled the toys out of her body, each dropping to the floor and flopping around ridiculously as their movements had not been ceased.

Severus cancelled the charms and released the bonds around Hermione’s body, grabbing her under the arms and dragging her forwards as he moved backwards onto the chair. He slid her onto his lap, legs tossed over the arms of the chair, and body open to his waiting cock, letting gravity slowly impale her on his rigid staff, though she didn’t get far with her legs on the arms of the chair as they were and her pussy so swollen he was surprised anything bigger around than his finger could fit inside. She flopped bonelessly against his chest and he pulled her face up to his kiss as he set a slow rhythm with his cock, thrusting up into her shallowly, stimulating her g-spot with the head of his prick and content to build her up again this way, though it would take awhile without any other stimulation.

His hips undulated and his tongue mimicked the motions inside her warm mouth. He could taste the muskiness of his own sex on her tongue and it was a heady combination, his sex and her mouth. He wanted to come inside his witch and wasn’t sure he was going to be able to hold out much longer. Abandoning his plan to bring her slowly to her final climax, he deepened his kiss, bowing her head back with a tug on her hair. He tweaked her overly-sensitive nipple, tugging and rolling it between his finger and thumb, before grabbing her entire breast in his grip and scissoring her nipple between his fingers, pulling it as far away from her breast as he could and holding it there until she whimpered.

Severus abruptly vanished the arms of the chair, gravity dropping her body fully and deeply onto his prick. Lips still locked to hers and breasts still in his crushing grip, Severus stood and pressed her back against the surface of the desk, pulling away from the kiss to stand and change the angle of his dick, setting a brutal pace with his hips and releasing her hair so he could viciously tweak her clit in time to his thrusts. Thrust after thrust brought him closer to the edge, though he knew it would be harder for her after already experiencing multiple orgasms that evening. He bent at the waist, sucking her entire breast into his hot mouth and licking at her nipple before suckling like a babe.

Just as he felt his balls pull up tight to his body, he felt the flutters of her cunt around his cock. Doubling his efforts on her clit and adjusting the angle of his hips to hit her spot again and again, he gave his final command, barking out “Now,” around her nipple and roared as he came, spurting against her cervix and reveling in the feel of her walls clamping down in her final orgasm of the night. He allowed himself a little time to lie across her body, lazily licking at her breast as he regained his breath and his strength.

Recovered enough to do what needs must, he cleaned himself and his trousers with a charm, tucked himself back into his pants and scooped Hermione into his arms, carrying the wasted witch to his waiting tub. Her head lolled on his shoulder, all energy left behind in his office. Her muscles twitched and spasmed under his hands and he almost, almost, regretted his actions. Until she snuggled her nose into the crook of his neck and sighed deeply in contentment, placing a gentle kiss on his sensitive scar tissue. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this amazing woman, who could handle him at his worst, take his dominance and dish it back out when needed, calm the beast inside him or coax it out to play when she so desired; he just prayed to whatever deity was out there that he didn’t fuck it up. And that Minerva didn’t find out. _Please, God, not that._


	16. Coitus Interruptus a la Weasley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The true nature of Hermione's punishment is revealed and our favorite Weasley makes a reappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have commented and left kudos and stuck in there through unreliable updates. Life is mellowing and I am committing to weekly updates on this fic, every Saturday. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 16: Coitus Interruptus a la Weasley

                Hermione was aware of being carried and she could easily guess the final destination, not caring enough to truly pay attention to the journey. She was exhausted. Her entire body was sore and her brain was mush, the sex giving her what she knew it would, freedom from worry and memory. All she wanted to do was curl up next to Severus and sleep, content with the fact that her brain was too far gone to conjure any nightmares.

                The warmth of the tub and the scent of her wizard engulfed her. If she could, she would have moaned, but she was too tired for even that. She was dimly aware of her hair being piled atop her head and strong yet elegant hands massaging the stiffness out of her shoulders and neck. When Severus was satisfied he started stroking and caressing her fingers one-by-one and his rich voice washed over her.

                “You did well, pet. I am so proud of you,” he praised as he ran his ridiculously talented fingers up her arms, drawing the tension away. His praise did things to her…naughty and unspeakable things…when she wasn’t three-quarters asleep, anyway. “You are exquisite when you come, Hermione. I’ll have the image of your perfect mouth swallowing my cock while my toys fuck you engraved on my brain until the day I die. I love the feel of your cunt wrapped around me as you fall apart. “

                Hermione was pretty sure he was trying to kill her with orgasms, if it was possible to die from pure bliss. Her body was already stirring at his words, “love” falling from his lips in that baritone purr of his shooting like an arrow straight to her core, as if it hadn’t just endured an hour of riding the razor edge and four orgasms, each more intense than the last. As if her every orifice hadn’t been filled and fucked thoroughly not more than a few minutes ago. Her empty center clenched half-heartedly, the most she could muster at the moment, and she whimpered a bit at the sting in her core.

                “Oh, yes, you do like your pleasure. I still have a lesson to teach you pet, about control. I did say one week, and so one week it shall be,” Severus crooned soothingly as he massaged between her shoulder blades before tipping her forward to slide his hands down to the small of her back, kneading the tension there. “You will not come again until exactly one week from today, by your hand or any other. Do you understand, sweet Hermione? That greedy little snatch of yours is officially on a fast until you can learn some self-control. Tell me you understand.”

                Hermione was too tired to muster much protest, though she definitely protested. How was she going to go a week without release? She had gotten used to it, the heat, the rush, the mindlessness. Her mind had come to depend on this man and the pleasure he brought her to keep the nightmares and the worries at bay. Just thinking about Severus, in his office, on the couch, against the wall, in his bath and definitely in his bed was enough to calm her frazzled nerves. Going a week without him would be akin to torture and she was sure she would have withdrawal symptoms like an addict in the throes of detox.

                Severus must have read her mind because he chuckled darkly, trailed one hand slowly down to rest between her legs where he could surely feel her heart beating through her throbbing labia while the other went the opposite direction, pressing against her sternum and pushing her back against his chest once more so he could growl in her ear.

                “Do not misunderstand me, my dear. I will not be giving up _my_ pleasure this week. I have become quite accustomed to your pretty mouth, truly gorgeous cunt, and that delectable little ass,” he assured her, his fingers plucking at her abused clit and her tender nipple simultaneously. He nibbled at her earlobe before continuing. “You think this evening was torture, hanging onto the… edge… of orgasm only to be pulled back again… and again? Just. You. Wait. But I’ll occupy your mind, never doubt that. You won’t be able to think about anything but my fingers…” he circled her clit with the tips of three fingers slowly, gently. “My mouth…” He sucked the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder and then laved it with his tongue. “My cock…” He ground his erection against her backside.

                Hermione was lost to sensation and his voice which really should have been registered as a deadly weapon because they way he utilized those long vowels, perfectly placed pauses, and ever-changing tone was enough to kill her good sense and her inhibitions.

_God, if I could bottle that I’d make a mint._

In a way it was a relief. Even though she knew he wouldn’t relent and she would indeed go the next seven days without an orgasm, possibly brought to the edge over and over as she had earlier that evening only to be left unfulfilled, she also knew that he would doubtlessly occupy her mind, as promised, even if it was engrossed with thoughts of pleasing him.

                “I understand,” she breathed, just as he lifted her, strong arm wrapped around her torso to accomplish the task because he certainly wasn’t releasing his grip on her quivering quim, and lowered her onto his waiting cock, his fingers still playing her clit like a fine instrument. Wherever his stamina came from, they should figure out how to mass produce it and distribute it _for free_ for the good of all mankind…womankind. Of course, it didn’t occur to her that he was a Potion’s Master and if there was a way to bottle it, he surely not only knew the recipe but had likely tweaked it to perfection by now.

                “Do not come, pet. This is for your own good. And my pleasure, of course.” And that was all he said before he latched onto her neck and started to roll his hips, grinding up into her without truly thrusting. His fingers…god, his fingers…kept up an unrelenting assault on her clit, though they remained soft and slow, not enough to tip her over but just enough to bring her…right…there…to…the…

                Severus, intent on his own pleasure and apparently seeing no need to draw things out, bit down hard as he came inside her minutes later, the pain enough to pull her back and keep her grounded when all she wanted to do was fall over that cliff with him. Hermione lifted her arms so she could thread her fingers through his hair and rested her head back against his shoulder, too exhausted to move but still too close to the edge to truly relax.

                Severus’s cock slipped free and Hermione nearly cried at the sensation. How she was going to make it a week, she had no idea. But just as she had when he had challenged her after their first encounter, she would rise to this challenge as well and prove to him that she could control herself; she could follow orders; she could submit and take anything he decided to dish out. She giggled weakly as she thought that she might actually finally earn an ‘O’ from her potion’s professor.

                Severus took his time cleaning her and himself up before drying them both, using a towel instead of a charm on her hair because he had learned that lesson well, and ushering her to his bed. Not bothering with sleep clothes, he tucked them both into his sinful bed and within minutes they were both sound asleep, spooned together as close as they could be and still remain separate entities.

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                Saturday morning dawned, crisp and cold, not that Hermione was aware of it in her dungeon abode. October was in full swing and there was talk that the annual Halloween Feast might actually be a Halloween Ball like the Yule Ball of 4th year. Ginny had pounded on Hermione’s door for a solid 5 minutes, intent on sharing the gossip with her and getting a commitment to go shopping for dress robes, before she realized that Hermione was most likely in a shagged out state in the Potion Master’s rooms.

                Ginny wasn’t one to judge, but she was one to hold a grudge, and knowing that Snape’s proclivities put Hermione in danger of physical harm, and that he had already lost control once, Ginny wasted no time in hightailing it down to Snape’s office. She was going to get that Vow, today, or her name wasn’t Weasley.

                Not knowing how to get into his office wasn’t an issue as she simply conjured her patronus, _thanks Harry, love, for teaching me that,_ and sent it with a message to seek Hermione out. She gave it ten minutes, tops, before her friend or her professor were at the door, dragging her inside. She just hoped they remembered to dress and clear the sex smell out of the air. Last week it had been strong enough in that office to choke a cat and while she didn’t judge, she didn’t really want to picture her friend and her professor…doing what they did.

                Seven minutes after sending her message, the door cracked open and Hermione’s thin arm reached out and hauled her inside. She was wearing a black button down shirt that hit her around the knees and thick socks, like the type one might wear under boots, dragonhide boots at that, and her hair…her hair! The office positively reeked of sex, too, and Ginny was both disgusted and horribly envious. She wouldn’t be seeing Harry until the next Hogsmeade weekend when he’d be able to get away from Auror training and come for a visit. She was starting to feel a bit desperate and was put out that Hermione was getting regular orgasms while Ginny had to make due with a handy vibration charm her mother had taught her during an excruciatingly embarrassing _talk_.

                “Morning,” she grumbled. “I’m here to bond a Vow and claim my best friend, who I haven’t seen in a week outside of meals. Do you have permission to come out and play?”

                “I’m not a prisoner, Gin,” Hermione chuffed. “And there will be no Vow, so get that idea out of your head. I trust him and am quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. But I will get dressed and come with you. I miss you, too.”

                Ginny thought she heard the older witch mutter _It’s not like I’m going to get any satisfaction here_ , but she wasn’t sure and she really didn’t want to know. Really. I mean, she kind of wanted to know but…

                “I’ll let the Vow thing drop, but I at least want an oath. I worry about you with him. If he can lose it once, he can lose it again, ‘Mi.”

“Gin, I know you worry but please, trust me, even if you don’t trust him. He was perfectly willing to make a Vow, even though he finally got free of all of his Vows, Vows he upheld for two decades, if that eases your mind about his trustworthiness. I promise, I’ll be fine, and if I’m not, I’ll give you first crack at him!” Hermione smiled reassuringly and Ginny decided to let the matter drop, for now.

“Well, get dressed then. And be quick about it, eh. I don’t fancy trying to make small talk with the professor who’s shagging my best friend while you primp.”

                Hermione turned back from the door leading to Snape’s chambers, arched her eyebrow in a truly eerie imitation of the aforementioned professor, and smirked. “He’s still sleeping, actually. Guess I wore him out,” she quipped before heading inside and leaving Ginny to her thoughts.

                _Fuck, I need to get a leg over if the thought of Hermione wearing out Snape is getting me hot!_

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                Hermione strolled through Severus’s chambers like she owned the place, comfortable in doing so since she had been shagged on every single surface of the place. The brunette hopped onto the bed like the teenager she technically was and bounced exuberantly over to Severus’s side.

                One dark eye slid open to glare at her before he grumbled, like the grumpy old man he pretended to be, “It is entirely too early to be so bloody cheerful, Miss Granger.”

                Hermione leaned over him to kiss the tip of his nose. This seemed to cheer him up a bit because he suddenly grabbed her by the arms and had her pinned beneath him before she really knew what happened. Hermione giggled as Severus rained kisses down all over her face and neck, not noticing his talented hands had managed to unbutton her…his…shirt until she felt those fingers digging into her sides. Hermione laughed as Severus Snape, intimidating and fearsome Potion’s Master, tickled her until she was gasping and begging him to stop. She forgot all about Ginny awaiting her presence and gave her entire being up to this man in this moment.

                “Do. You. Yield?” he asked, lips pressed right up to her ear.

                “Never,” Hermione answered bravely, turning her head to kiss him on his nose.

                “Whatever shall I do, then? What _torture_ technique would best suit the situation?” Severus asked in a conversational tone not quite suited to discussing things such as torture.

                “Orgasms, sir. Lots and lots of orgasms,” Hermione replied in her most innocent of tones.

                “ _Tut,tut_ , pet. You know your punishment. I will not be so easily swayed. An orgasm would be a perfect start to the day, however. Thank you, my dear, for the suggestion.”

                Severus sat back on his haunches and his hands started to wander until they came to rest on her thighs, which he immediately pulled up and over his shoulders. He readjusted their bodies until she was rolled into a ball, seemingly in a position of total submission, though she knew that all she had to do was push her legs forward and she could limit his movements easily enough. Then he dipped his long fingers into her sex just long enough to test her readiness before entering her in one swift stroke, immediately setting a rhythm of long, rolling thrusts that kissed her cervix on the way in and her spongy front wall on the way out. He kept his hands braced on the bed, stared her in the eyes and never once lowered his head to kiss her, ensuring she knew that this was about his pleasure and he had no intention of giving in and bringing her along for the ride. She was merely a receptacle for his cock and took it gladly.

                Just as he was filling her with his seed and groaning out her name, Ginny’s patronus came cantering into the room, this time with a message for both of them.

                “Severus Snape,” screeched Ginny’s disembodied voice, “if you don’t pull your cock out of whatever orifice of Hermione’s you currently have it shoved in and give me back my best friend, I am going to blow this door to hell and come in there and get her! Hermione, for the love of Merlin, girl, just come already and get your pert little ass out here!”

                Hermione laughed so hard at the disgruntled look on Severus’s face that she forcefully ejected his half-hard cock from her body. Then she laughed harder at the pained face he made as his sensitive head landed heavily against the bedspread. Severus sneered at her as he removed himself from the bed and ducked into the bathroom, ostensibly to clean up or hide in case Ginny made good on her threat. Hermione calmed down enough to clean herself up with a few charms, for expediency’s sake, and then realized she had nothing to wear.

                _I wonder if Severus would object to me leaving some clothes here, and a toothbrush,_ Hermione thought as she got creative with Severus’s clothes.

                Hermione rebuttoned his shirt around her tiny frame and transfigured the sash of a bathrobe she was sure he had never worn and probably received as a gift from a well-meaning colleague into a belt, effectively turning the shirt into a long tunic. The thick socks she was wearing were easily transfigured into tights, thinner but covering more of her legs. She didn’t bother with undergarments, because who would know anyway, but did help herself to his bathrobe and a pair of matching slippers, transformed into an open front jumper and comfy flats. Twisting her hair up on top of her head and securing it with her wand, Hermione went in search of her erstwhile lover.

                “Severus, I’m heading out to spend some time with Ginny. Something about dress robes for a ball. I don’t know. And I’ve got homework to work on later. I’ll return after dinner, unless you want me sooner. Severus?”

                Hermione stepped further into the room and found her wizard standing in the shower, head bent between his arms which were braced against the wall, as the water pelted down on his head and shoulders. She wrapped smartly on the glass wall to get his attention and his head snapped to the side, dark eyes meeting hers, blank behind a wall of _occlusion_. Those eyes raked down her body, eyebrow lifting as he recognized his clothing buried behind her transfigurations, but returning to hers quickly enough, still empty of any true emotion.

                “What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.

                “Nothing,” he responded, voice level and free of emotion. “Go. Have fun. I’ll see you later. I’ve got brewing to do, anyway.”

                “Do you not want me to go?” Hermione didn’t believe his answer for a second.

                “Hermione, I am under no delusions that you belong to me, nor do I feel that all of your time should be devoted to me. Please, go. Give my regards to Miss Weasley.” The way he growled Ginny’s name, his annoyance or anger or whatever strong enough to show through his _occlusion_ , gave her a clue as to what upset him.

                “I’ll talk to Gin. I’ll let her know that you are a very private man and she can’t just barge into your office or…”

                “I can take care of my own affairs, Hermione. Miss Weasley and I will be having a chat about boundaries soon enough. Now, go, before she destroys my door and I am forced to…teach…her about boundaries the. Hard. Way.” Severus turned his face back towards the shower, effectively dismissing Hermione.

                Hermione sighed in resignation. Placing her palm against the glass once more in a simulacrum of a farewell hug or wave or whatever good-bye she would have given him, Hermione bade him to have a good day, reiterated that she would see him that evening, and left the comfort of Severus’s chambers to deal with an irate witch who had no sense of propriety but loved her so much that Hermione couldn’t really find fault with her.

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                Severus was a consummate liar. As a child he lied about the conditions of his home, the abuse at the hands of his father, the death of his mother, his magical abilities, and where he really disappeared to the majority of the year. As an adult he spent his life lying to save lives, his and others, and defeat one of the most evil wizards to ever live…so far. He didn’t see anything wrong with lying to Hermione about something so inconsequential as his feelings.

                He wasn’t angry over anything truly important and it was his problem and not hers, besides. The truth of the matter was that he was angry at the intrusion into his privacy. And he did hope she would have stayed with him, chosen him, over her friends. He wanted someone to choose him for once. He knew it was irrational, and he didn’t want a full-time submissive, never had, who was devoted only to him and his needs, at the expense of her own. He didn’t want another Eileen Prince, giving of herself, sacrificing, until there was nothing of her left. He valued and admired Hermione’s independence and didn’t want to take that from her. He didn’t want her to come to resent him or feel smothered by him.

                So when he felt the need to lash out, demand she tell her friend to piss off and spend the day with him, he brought his shields up, buried those feelings deep, and escaped to the sanctuary of the shower. He would calm himself, compose himself, shroud himself in his customary frock coat and boots and snark, and spend his day brewing, the one thing he loved more than anything else, besides fucking one Hermione Granger, that was.

                And if, on the way to his private lab, he happened to adjust his wards to keep Ginevra Weasley out, he was sure nobody would judge him for it. Hell, there might be other members of the faculty who would ask him how to do it! That girl was a menace, just like her brothers before her.

               


	17. Conflict and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny doesn't know when to quit. Hermione loses her cool. Neville to the rescue...kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update as promised! A little late in the day but we had an impromptu family get together today that ate up my day! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everybody who left kudos and comments! They are great motivators, for sure. I know I don't always respond to them all but I appreciate them nonetheless.

Chapter 17: Conflict and Comfort

                “I said be quick, Hermione. You were gone for nearly 40 minutes!” Ginny said, her voice laced with exasperation and impatience. “Couldn’t you have had a quickie like the rest of us or, here’s a thought, told Snape to wank off because you had plans? Eew, now I’m thinking of Snape wanking!”

                “Not that it is _any_ of your business, but that _was_ a quickie.” Hermione smirked at her friend’s look of shock.

                “You lucky bitch,” Ginny breathed, head shaking in disbelief. “Who knew he had it in him?”

                “Technically, he had it in me,” Hermione quipped. “I thought you were in a hurry? Why are we still standing here?”

                “Oi, right-o. C’mon then!” And the redhead whisked out of the office and down the hall, fully expecting Hermione to trail behind her.

                Before they knew it they were in front of Hermione’s room, then inside it, sprawled across her bed and discussing the rumored ball. Ginny had apparently put quite a bit of thought into it while she had been waiting for Hermione to… get dressed.

                “It’s Halloween so it’s almost guaranteed to be a costume ball. Or a masquerade! Personally, I’m hoping for a costume ball. It’s way more fun. I mean, really, how do you dance in giant ball gowns? Definitely not going to be sneaking off with Snape to shag in dark corners with all those petticoats, right ‘Mi? And masks that cover your eyes don’t really make anybody anonymous. Like we can’t tell who anybody is because we can’t see their cheekbones? Please! Your hair and his nose would give you both away in a heartbeat!”

                Hermione merely smiled. The conversation then turned to what costumes they would wear. Ginny had narrowed her choices to dressing as Aphrodite, Boudica, a fairy or a princess. She wanted loose fabrics easy to dance in. When Ginny found out that Hermione had transfigured her entire outfit down to her shoes from items from Severus’s wardrobe, she begged Hermione to use her skills to plan for the rumored ball. They had a lot of fun transfiguring a set of Hermione’s robes into interpretations of each costume, the ginger witch looking absolutely stunning in all four variations.

                “Ooh, my favorite is definitely Boudica!” Hermione announced, looking at the red head with her hair in Celtic plaits, wrapped in a flowing gown of blue and green tartan, a short cowl clasped over one shoulder, sword (formerly a hairpin) at her hip and a shield on her arm.

                “We’ll have to tart it up a bit,” Ginny said, agreeing with her friend. “Maybe lower the neckline, or bring the skirt up to my knees. I need some gladiator sandals and...oh!...blue face paint!”

                “Definitely! You look great, Ginny. Merlin knows what I’m going to be able to do with myself. Short, thin, and all this damned hair.”

                “No worries, Hermione. I’m sure we can come up with something to knock Snape’s socks off. Hey, if nothing else, we know he likes leather. We can just dress you up as…who is that cat lady who fights with the bat guy from that moving picture play thing we watched at your house a few summers ago?”

                Hermione giggled. “Catwoman and Batman? I don’t know if I want to dress as a cat….second year, you know. Not my favorite memories. Severus might get a laugh, though. He had to brew the antidote, after all, and I’m sure he would remember that!”

                “Oh, but it would be perfect! You can dress in all leather and be the cat lady and the bat of the dungeons can be the bat guy. Then Snape can think of pussy every time he sees you…oh, wait!” Ginny cried before laughing so hard she fell off the bed.

Hermione once again simply gritted her teeth and kept her cool. Severus had obviously been upset by Ginny’s interruption and invasion of his privacy earlier, as well as her crass comments. Hermione was starting to come around to his way of thinking.

“I told you, Ginny, we don’t just have sex. We read and we talk. We spend time together. We share meals…”

                “Yeah, I’m sure you have stimulating conversations about the best leather to make a flogger out of or the best knot for tying you to the bedpost,” Ginny scoffed. “Maybe I’ll ask him next time I see him, spice up me and Harry’s love life!”

Hermione changed the subject, not wanting to fight with her friend and knowing that if they kept up that line of conversation there would inevitably be a point where someone’s feelings were going to get hurt. She admitted that she had also been contemplating dressing as a prima ballerina, having had lessons as a child before Hogwarts and knowing that it was the easiest costume to pull off with her hair, needing only to wrap it in a twist or a bun.

Ginny quipped that Snape probably wouldn’t like her dressed in a tutu like a little girl, followed quickly by a look that clearly meant she had just had the thought that Snape’s proclivities might run that way. Hermione gritted her teeth as she assured Gin that he definitely had no predilections for children and that BDSM was in no way related to pedophilia.

                “Right, like I’m supposed to believe he doesn’t like it when you wear a little plaid skirt and knee socks? Please, ‘Mi, he’s a guy like any other and they all love the virgin schoolgirl look. Even Harry has asked me to do the pigtails and mary janes thing. Though he is barely older than school age himself so it isn’t as taboo and weird for him to be into it.”

                Hermione stood up quite abruptly and faced the younger witch. “Ginevra Weasley, you listen to me. That is enough! We’ve been talking for hours and I can’t say a single sentence without you making a crass comment about Severus and me. I’m getting a bit tired of it, to be honest, and Severus certainly doesn’t appreciate the familiarity!”

                Ginny rolled to her feet and stood stiff, arms by her side. “So it’s fine to talk about sex and our boyfriends as long as those boyfriends aren’t old, snarky, and controlling? Is that it? Are you letting him control everything about you, even your personality? I get that you think you love him or could love him or can save him from his troubled soul or whatever but does that mean you have to let him change who you are?”

                “No! Of course not! Jesting and girl talk is one thing, but Merlin, Ginny, you just keep on. It’s downright rude, is what it is! And there is a great example of a boundary line you should tread on lightly, Gin, before Severus takes drastic measures. He is…unhappy with your intrusion on his privacy and, honestly, Ginny, it’s a bit disrespectful. He’s still a professor at this school, your professor, and an adult for all of that. Would you talk so impertinently to McGonagall or Sprout? Do you think any one of us would ever speak in that way to your mum or dad? Hell, you wouldn’t even speak that way to Kingsley and we’re on a first name basis with him!”

                “I think you are on more than a first name basis with Snape, Hermione,” Ginny retorted, her face turning red either in anger or shame or maybe a bit of both.

                “Yes, I am. But that’s the point. _I am_. Not you. He’s a very private man who has had it hard. All he has left is the respect of his students and the staff here, his reputation. Then here you come talking to him like he’s a student himself, and one you are far too familiar with. He doesn’t like it. I don’t like it, either. I mean, girl talk about our…boyfriends… when it’s just us is one thing, but suggesting he might be interested in _children_ when you know damn well I am not a child, and he has _never_ had any sexual interest in a student before, is disgusting and intolerable.”

                Hermione stood, arms crossed to hide the shaking of her hands. She didn’t like confrontation with her friends. And after the war, well, she didn’t react well to it at all. Ginny wasn’t enjoying the experience either, if her reddened cheeks and narrowed eyes were anything to judge by.

                “Well, if I am so intolerable, maybe I should just go. Not like you ever have time for me anyway now that you have Sevvy-poo to entertain you. Maybe I am just a little too _common_ and crude for you now that you have a real intellectual to beat you into submission every night. I might be a little obscene or perverted and like to make a crude comment now and then, but maybe you should look in a mirror before you judge, eh, seeing as I’m not the one who is into whips and chains. Who’s the pervert here, really?”

                And before Hermione could respond, Ginny had stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She held her composure for a full five seconds before she collapsed on her bed like some cartoon princess, sobbing rather dramatically.

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                Ginny was furious. She was furious with Hermione for speaking so harshly to her, furious that she didn’t spend any time with her anymore, furious that she was right, _again_ , and Ginny had been out of line because as furious as Ginny was, and as quick as she had been to throw out her own insults and storm out, she knew as soon as the door closed behind her that Hermione had been right to call her out on her behavior. But as furious with herself as Ginny was, she was also a Weasley, and once in an awkward situation, didn’t really know how to get out of it. She needed advice.

                It was just happenstance that as she rounded a corner headed to the Great Hall to grab some lunch and contemplate her situation, she ran face first into Neville, who had sprouted another 3 inches over the summer but had not grown any less gangly and awkward looking. He had grown much more confident in himself and was a good listener, when needed. Ginny wasted no time in grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into a nearby alcove, which she quickly warded for privacy (a few charms she had learned during her younger years when she needed a place to snog her beau without being bothered by any of her brothers).

                “Um, Ginny, I don’t know…” Neville spluttered, face flaring crimson.

                “Oh, Merlin, no. I just need someone to talk to and bumped into you so you’re the lucky winner!” Ginny exclaimed with false cheer.

                “Oh,” Neville sighed, relieved. “What’s up?”

                “I messed up with Hermione and I don’t know how to fix it,” Ginny admitted. “I mean, I was a little inappropriate but we’ve always been able to make lewd jokes at the expense of our boyfriends, even when she was dating my brother. It’s fun, y’know, but now that she’s banging Snape…shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Forget you heard that, please!”

                Neville’s eyes could not grow any wider without actually popping out of his head and onto the floor. His jaw had dropped so far that Ginny could see his tonsils and that little hangy ball thingy at the back of your throat that she suddenly wished she knew the name for because now it was going to bother her, not knowing. His skin had gone white in terror at just the mention of Snape’s name, or maybe it was the mention of Hermione Granger, golden girl, having sex with the object of Neville’s boggart, literally the thing he was most afraid of in the whole world.

                “Her-her-her-Hermione is…is…with Snape? Potion’s Master Snape? The Snape who _teaches_ here? Former Headmaster…”

                “Yes, Neville, that Snape. _The_ Snape. Professor Snape. Do you even know another Snape?”

                Neville stumbled back a step before plopping down to the ground, holding his head in his hands as if it had become too heavy for his neck and shoulders to support any longer. Ginny gave him a moment to process. After all, when she had looked at the map and very clearly seen Hermione’s footprints almost directly on top of Snape’s, she had taken nearly an hour to come to grips with the fact that her best friend was fucking the man. But then she realized it kind of made sense, not that she approved of it, especially after learning that he had hurt the older witch, but she kind of understood the appeal.

                “Ok. Ok. That kind of makes sense actually. I mean, the idea is disturbing on more levels than I even thought existed but…and I guess since she’s an adult, it isn’t technically against the rules. I mean, there was a headmaster or professor or something that married a student and she lived with him in his staff rooms. I think. I read it somewhere. Or Hermione told me, more likely. I don’t know. But when I think about it…”

                “Yeah. Well, anyway, Neville, I kind of maybe implied that he was a pedophile, and maybe interrupted them during sex, and definitely made comments to her and him about their deviant sex life, and I guess they’re both upset with me about butting my nose in or something, and I don’t know how to fix it,” Ginny said in a rush. “And I didn’t mean it…any of it…not really.”

                “Deviant sex life? What do you mean by that?” Neville was now very interested in this conversation. As long as he didn’t picture it in his head. Like, EVER.

                “Shit! Forget I said that, ok? If Hermione likes to be tied up, that is her business and we shouldn’t judge her, right?” Ginny could not seem to shut. Her. Mouth.

                “It seems that you really want to tell me what’s going on. You keep saying things, and then telling me to forget it and then saying something else. So, let’s drop all that nonsense and you just tell me what’s going on.” Neville patted the spot on the floor next to him, the universal sign for “sit down and spill”.

                Ginny sat.

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                Severus spent his morning brewing for the hospital wing and trying very hard not to think of Hermione and how much he wished she were there. He had spent 20 years alone and a matter of days, just over a week really, with the witch had made him…dependent on her company? Possessive over her and his time with her? He felt like this might have been how it started with his father. Luckily, he knew damned well he would NEVER let it go that far with Hermione. He would kill himself before he ever willingly harmed her in such an unforgiveable manner again.

                But he was possessive, and obsessive, and coming to depend on her presence each night, to look forward to it, to wish he could just demand it and make it so. He was a controlling person by nature and though he had never wanted a full time submissive, he sometimes found himself thinking it would be easier if he could just demand she stay, that she sit with him, that she give her time and attention only to him. These times usually only came when he saw her laughing and interacting with her friends at meals, or when she sat close to a classmate when working on a potion, or when he saw her head bent close to another’s in the library.

                Severus refused to say he was jealous, but one might describe him as such. Especially when he saw the eyes that followed her when she walked through the halls, her nose in a book and completely oblivious to the attention she was attracting.

                A sharp pain brought Severus out of his thoughts. He hadn’t been paying attention and had sliced his thumb open while dicing some mandrake root. Well-acquainted with pain, he merely sneered and cast his own healing spell before resuming his task, though he was a bit more focused this time. He worked on memory, having spent most of his life in a potion’s lab, and there was a grace to his movements not achieved by many.

                He was walking in a familiar step-step-quarter turn pattern from one cauldron to another when he felt the ripple of his wards, gold flashing behind his eyes moments before his lab door flew open and a very distraught witch threw herself in his arms. He acted on instinct, scooping her up bridal style and carrying her through to his sitting room, cradling her in his lap and imploring her to lay her burdens upon his shoulders.

                There was a tightness in his chest as she cried that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. He wanted to find whatever had upset her and…O. Bli. Ter. Ate. It. He settled for holding her delicate face in his hands and kissing the tears from her face. She calmed eventually, sobs winding down to hiccupping gasps and the occasional full body shudder. Finally, her body calmed and her breaths slowed and it became obvious that the silly witch had cried herself into an exhausted sleep.

                Severus carried her to his bed, divesting them both of their cumbersome clothing and pulling her flush against him. He didn’t know what upset her and wouldn’t know until she woke, respecting her privacy enough now to not delve into her mind without her consent. Since he didn’t want her to wake up alone, and because he didn’t actually want to leave her alone, he dimmed the lights and pulled the covers snugly around them both, content to hold her for however long it needed to be done.

                Her scent invaded his nose and the warmth of her soft skin seeped down into his bones. Severus buried one hand into the silky mass of curls atop his witch’s head, wrapped the other one around her waist to pull her even closer, and slept, content to simply be, in this moment, with this woman.


	18. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, fluff and Ginny comes clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. My aunt passed and her funeral was this past weekend. I'm not 100% happy with this chapter. Might edit it later.

 

                             Chapter 18: Fallout

Hermione woke up with a pounding head. The kind of headache one gets only from a good, hard cry. The kind of headache accompanied by swollen eyelids, a scratchy throat, and skin tightened by dried tears. The plus side was that she also woke up in the company of a potions master and all around incredibly powerful wizard. One might argue he was the most powerful wizard in Britain, possibly even in Europe.

As soon as Severus realized she was awake, he cast cooling and cleansing charms on her face and handed her a vial of pain potion. She sniffed it to be sure, earning an approving smirk from the wizard, kneeling fully clothed in unrelieved black as usual, at the bedside next to her, and chugged it down quickly before the bitter taste could register on her tongue. Relief was swift and much appreciated.

Hermione ran a hand through the dark wizard's hair, marveling once more at its silken texture, and kissed his nose in thanks. The adorable man responded by grabbing her hand and kissing the backs of her knuckles before rising from his crouched position, all 6'3" of him once more the stern and intimidating man of her memories.

"I would like to know what happened earlier today to cause that reaction and to whom…I owe…a…vis…it."

Hermione shivered. The reason was twofold. First, that voice and the way he wielded it really should be outlawed. Good lord how she could get wet when he was obviously making veiled threats of harm was beyond her. Second, that voice should be outlawed because she was aroused and also terrified. The menace dripping from his sibilant tongue was enough to send most sane people running for safety.

"Now, Severus…" Hermione cajoled as she sat up, trying to even the playing field a bit. On second thought, she kneeled on the bed, bringing herself as level with his height as possible.

"Witch, you will tell me or I will. Take. The. Information. From. You," Severus growled low in his throat. His voice was rough, like ground glass.

"She was just being Ginny, a little too crude, and I snapped at her. She snapped at me back. It was just a spat between friends. She said some things and I said some things and…just teenage girl issues."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Severus's neck and kept her expression as calm as she could manage while staring into black eyes full of murder. Severus quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her attempt at subterfuge.

"The hard way then…well, hard for you perhaps," Severus remarked coolly. " _Legili-"_

"She called me a pervert," Hermione whispered, eyes downcast. "Said before I judged her for her crass comments I should take a look at myself because out of the two of us I was the perverted one into 'whips and chain'. She didn't mean it; she was just lashing out as all Weasleys do. I just overreacted, is all."

Cool fingers grabbed her by the chin and gently turned her face up. His eyes were still black, obviously, but not quite so enraged. Hermione could feel her eyes filling again and blinked rapidly to clear them away.

"Pet, there is nothing wrong with what we do. There is nothing wrong with you. It might not be considered the norm, but it is far from perverse. There are plenty of acts far more deviant than anything we have done or have discussed doing. She doesn't understand and that is her failing, not yours." Severus bent his forehead to hers. "And what's more, you did not overreact. A friend who is in your confidences, who you let in to a very private part of your life, used it against you during a disagreement. It is upsetting and you have the right to be upset."

Hermione stared into the inky depths of his eyes, seeing nothing but truth and acceptance and sincerity. She took a steadying breath and nodded jerkily, accepting what he had to say. Wanting to change the subject and get her mind off her fight with her friend, Hermione smiled.

"We're in your bedroom," she pointed out.

"Obviously," the taciturn man droned.

"We agreed that in here I would be the dominant," Hermione reminded him. Maybe she had found a way around this week without an orgasm lesson he insisted on teaching her.

"So we did," Severus agreed.

"Excellent, I order you to…EEEEK!" she squealed as she was suddenly lifted from the bed and carried out of it and into the en suite. "Not fair!"

"All is fair in love and war, pet," Severus chuckled darkly before hauling her into the shower stall.

Hermione's brain froze. Her whole body froze. Did he just say…?

"I believe I have won this battle," Severus announced as he unceremoniously dumped her on the floor and flipped on the water.

The chill of the spray shocked her out of her daze and she spluttered while simultaneously scooting backward as far as she could to get away from the water. Severus let loose a full belly laugh and she was too charmed by it to be angry with him. Instead she stood, slowly, and ran her hands up her thighs, hips, stomach and breasts on the way to her hair, which she pulled away from her face and tied in a knot at the base of her skull. She did not fail to notice that his eyes tracked her every move.

"You're playing with fire, Miss Granger," he warned, voice low.

"Good thing there is all this water around then, don't you think?" Hermione teased. "It is rather cold, though," she complained as she trailed her hands down to her breasts and started to roll her pebbled nipples between her forefingers and thumbs.

"Witch," Severus rumbled in warning.

"Yes, Master," Hermione replied, voice full of innocence. She twisted her nipples sharply and moaned.

"This will only end one way, pet, and it will not be with your pleasure," Severus reminded her.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Hermione said before sucking briefly on two of her fingers and guiding them down between her legs.

Before she reached her destination she found her hand gripped in his much larger and much stronger one. Eyes locked on hers, the most powerful wizard in Europe fell under her spell, stepping fully clothed into the shower and pushing her back against the tiled wall.

"Allow me to warm you up," he rasped before dropping to his knees and engulfing her entire right breast in his hot mouth and flicking her hand away to claim her left breast with his own.

Hermione buried her free hand in his hair, holding him to her breast. She loved what he could do to her, would do to her, _was_ doing to her. His mouth was so damned talented, licking, sucking, flicking, nipping, tugging, and rolling her nipple while his nimble fingers mimicked those actions on the other. She had no idea how sensitive her breasts could be until he showed her, taught her. He hadn't lied when he said she would forever compare all lovers to him and she believed wholeheartedly that she would always find them lacking. Of course, thinking about having any other lover besides him was impossible when he decided to move his attentions south.

His mouth…Merlin, his mouth! He was insatiable, a parched man presented with an unending supply of life-saving water. He lapped at her, thrusting his tongue deep to gather more of her on his taste buds, to drink her in and swallow her, taking her into his body in the only way he could. He sucked at her clit and tugged her labia between his teeth, soothing the sting with gentle laps of the flat of his tongue. And all the while he moaned and grunted, growled and purred his appreciation of her flavor while his hands kept busy at her breasts.

Hermione tried to keep her reaction muted, tried to hide just how close she was. She knew it was pointless. She knew that Severus was so experienced, so in tune with her body, so observant, that he would know instantly when she reached the edge. And he did. She was one more sucking pull, one more wet lap at her folds, one more thrust from tipping over the edge into the abyss of pleasure when he suddenly ceased and pulled away from her body.

She was disappointed, to say the least, and sobbed in unfulfilled need while Severus calmly stood and watched, waiting for her body to calm down, for her tears to dry. He appeared to be completely unaffected, and somehow managed to pull it off while wearing robes soaked from the shower and with his long hair hanging wet and limp in his face. Hermione knew him, too, however and could see the signs he was trying to hide. He had a slight stutter to his breath, his hands were shaking at his sides, and his eyes, those bottomless black eyes that could be ice cold, empty, blank, full of hate or disgust, were burning into hers. Hermione had no doubt where this was going to go and she couldn't wait.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus thanked every deity he could think of for his infamous self-control. He wanted her juices down his throat, wanted to hear her scream his name as she released all over his face. But he had set a punishment and he would see it through. He would find his pleasure another way.

"Undress me, pet," he ordered when he had his breathing under control and could guarantee that his voice wouldn't break when he spoke like some pubescent boy.

The witch attacked his clothing with enthusiasm, tiny fingers working down his many buttons like her life depended on getting him naked as quickly as possible. Normally he would have stopped her, made her slow down, draw out the anticipation. But he was too wound up to delay his own gratification for long so he let her undress him with a lack of finesse but a plethora of urgency until he finally stood before her, lifting his bare feet so she could drag his trousers down his legs. When she had them off and made to stand, he halted her with a hand placed flat on her curly head.

A delicate face peered up at him, his hard cock bobbing on level with her mouth within his field of vision. It was almost too much for him as he watched a tiny tongue dart out of her mouth to lick at the head of his prick like a kitten with a bowl of cream.

"Don't be gentle," he commanded of the nymph knelt before him. And she wasn't.

He watched her mouth stretch wide around his cock, his shaft disappearing and reappearing from that warm, wet cavern as she bobbed, taking more and more of him each time her head lowered. She hollowed her cheeks and swallowed around his head over and over, harder and harder. She couldn't fit more than half of him into her mouth at once, not yet, though he would teach her how to relax her throat and swallow him. He was too far gone, too close to the edge to begin the lesson now.

"Your hands, witch," he pleaded…erm, directed.

Petite hands wrapped around his shaft and rolled his balls and he was done, shooting his seed deep down her throat and holding her head still so she would take it all. His witch swallowed every last drop and chased his cock for more when he pulled it from her mouth. Severus chuckled weakly before leaning back against the shower wall, hissing as the still cool water splashed his now flaccid but still sensitive cock.

Hermione remained on her knees, awaiting his permission to stand or perhaps trying to regain her strength to stand. He saw her thighs twitching and could smell her arousal in the air and figured it was probably the latter. A twist of his wrist and the water warmed to his preferred temperature.

"Stand, my little nymph. I require…bathing."

She had cleansed him before, of course, when she played the dominant and took care of him afterwards. This was the same yet somehow different. When her soapy hands massaged his scalp, his forehead resting on her shoulder so she could reach, he felt safe and cared for. When she carefully washed his face, her fingertips just barely grazing his skin as she traced his cheekbones, his forehead, and down the slope of his nose before rinsing his face just as gently, he felt loved. Her hands continued their journey, bringing peace and tranquility everywhere they touched. She even washed his feet, her fingers dipping between his toes and tickling at his arches. She saved his genitals for last, laving his cock and balls thoroughly enough to bring them back to attention.

Severus ignored his body's response to return the favor and clean his little witch from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and every last bit of her in between, barely restraining his sneer of distaste when he felt her bare mons under his fingers. He could admit that it had its benefits during oral sex, but he still associated it with a girl and not a woman and couldn't wait for her soft brown curls to grow back. Once they were both clean and dry he carried her back to his bedroom.

"You have missed lunch, nymph. I will not have you miss dinner as well. Dress. I am sure your friends will be looking for you." Severus did not miss the way Hermione flinched at the mention of her friends which reminded him that she had fought with the youngest Weasley just a few short hours prior. "I am sure she has calmed down by now and regrets her words. Go talk to her, Hermione."

"I don't want to," the brunette replied petulantly. "I want to stay here with you. Can't we get Tibby to bring us something and just spend the evening in front of the fire? There is this new article in _Potions Quarterly_ that I wanted to discuss with you…"

Severus's heart contracted at her words. She was choosing him, wanted to spend time with him. He wanted to take her up on the offer, lock her away in his rooms for the evening, for the rest of the weekend, for as long as she would let him. But he knew she needed her friends and he didn't want her to come to resent him and his presence in her life. So he shook his head, took her face between his hands, kissed her gently on the lips and bade her go. And if his heart hurt as he watched her walk away, for the second time that day, well, it wasn't as if there was anybody around to know.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione trudged to the Great Hall. She was dreading dinner. She always did these days. The smiling faces of the first years who didn't really know anything about the war made her feel old and jaded. The haunted looks in the eyes of those who stayed to fight just a few months prior, who watched friends die, family, who were injured or tortured, terrified for a year under the Carrows, reminded her too much of her own suffering but also of the fact that she hadn't been there to help them. She felt those eyes blamed her for not being there, for not stopping that madman before he got to the school. Nearly a year and they couldn't get the job done before he and his followers attacked children at what should have been the safest place for them to be.

Worse were the looks of hero worship, as if she was some kind of saint or something, come to save them or offer hope or redemption. It made her feel like a fraud, inadequate. She just wanted to live her life, the life she would have had had Voldemort not risen again, had she not had to spend her time at Hogwarts year after year saving Harry and preparing for war. She felt like a bad person for wanting to be left alone, for wanting to forget and move on.

Ginny kept her sane for the first month of school. Mostly. She and Neville and Luna were welcome faces who didn't look up to her, look down at her, look away from her. They didn't treat her any differently than they had before. At least until Ginny had ridiculed her, thrown her _differences_ back in her face in a moment of pique because Hermione dared to call her out on her inappropriate behavior.

Hermione was dreading seeing the look of scorn on her friend's face. She hoped that the redhead had calmed down as members of her family were wont to do. She hoped more that the girl was willing to talk, apologize, whatever and wasn't going to hold a grudge like her brother tended to do. She didn't have long to wait to figure which it was going to be as she no sooner stepped off the stairs from the dungeons and towards the Great Hall for dinner than she found her arms full of wailing witch.

"I'm so sorry, 'Mi. I was out of line and I just couldn't seem to make myself stop and I know that I can be really crass but it's never been that bad and I think it was because it is so scandalous and I'm the only one who knows and it was fun knowing this secret and being the only one who could say anything and you know I get comfortable with people too quickly and I shouldn't have put my nose and my big mouth in your business like that and please, please, please forgive me!"

Hermione squeezed her friend tightly. "Breathe, Ginny! It's alright. I forgive you. I already forgave you."

Ginny pulled back from the older witch to look her in the eye. "Well, you might not want to be too quick with that. I might have…well, you see…what I mean is that…I didn't mean to, 'Mi, really."

"Ginny, you're making me very nervous. Just spit it out already! I don't think there is anything worse you could do than implying Se…my _friend_ …is a pedophile and calling me perverted," Hermione reasoned.

Ginny grimaced and looked away. Hermione was starting to get a bit anxious now.

"Ginny? What did you do?" she asked as calmly as she could.

Ginny mumbled under her breath, still refusing to meet Hermione's eyes.

"Ginevra Weasley, you tell me what you did, right now!" Hermione demanded.

"I might have, sort of, maybe told Neville something about your situation. I needed advice on how to fix things with you and he was there and I was distraught and I might have said something but I didn't mean to!"

"What did you tell him?" Hermione asked through gritted teeth. Maybe she didn't give details? Maybe she kept it vague or only mentioned that Hermione was seeing someone?

"Um…he's so easy to talk to and once I started talking…it was very hard to stop. Did I mention I was distraught?" Ginny backed away a few steps, as if preparing for a blow.

"Ginny, what did you tell him?" Hermione repeated.

"Everything," Ginny confessed. "I'm sorry, but I told him pretty much everything. About you and Severus and the BD-whatever. Nothing super specific about that, though."

Hermione grabbed the younger witch by the hand and dragged her out of the hall and down the stairs. Severus needed to be aware and the decision on what to do with the information needed to be made together.

"Where are we going? You aren't taking me to…'Mione, he'll _murder_ me!" Ginny cried, tugging uselessly at her arm.

"I'm going to murder you, Ginny! How could you? I trusted you!"

"I know and I'm so sorry but he isn't going to say anything. He totally gets it and said it actually makes sense, you two together, and besides, nobody would believe him if he did tell. Which he won't! Definitely not going to tell so we really don't need to go talk to Snape. Really! Hermione?"

"I didn't think you were going to say anything and yet you did. So we're definitely going to tell Severus and by we, I mean you. You are going to tell him about this and I wouldn't put it past him to _obliviate_ the both of you!" Hermione hissed as she stalked into Severus's office. Or tried to. She didn't get past the door. Or at least her hand that was wrapped around Ginny's arm didn't get past the door. Rolling her eyes she called, "Professor Snape! I need to speak to you…urgently…like, right now!"

Severus materialized in the doorway, smirked to see that his warding had worked to keep the redhead out, and quickly lost the smirk at the look of panic in said redhead's eyes and the look of pure rage in his witch's. He released the wards, summoned the witches forward, closed and silenced the door, and gestured for them both to sit.

"Ginny, spill. Now." Hermione watched her friend's eyes dart around, desperately looking for an escape from her fate. "Now, Gin, or so help me I'll have Severus get the veritaserum!"

"Alright, alright!" the girl relented. She stared down at her lap, took a deep breath, and confessed. "I told Neville that you and Hermione were engaged in a sexual relationship that was nonconventional to say the least and I'm really sorry, please don't kill me."

Hermione had never seen Severus so enraged. Ever. She expected him to be upset but to remain calm as he determined the appropriate course of action. She had been very mistaken. His jaw clenched tight, his hands fisted on top of his desk and his eyes shot cold fury at the redhead cowering in front of him. The potion and ingredient bottles lining his shelves started to shake and the candles started to sputter. Hermione acted on instinct. She sent Ginny spinning out of the room with a flick of her wand, sealed the door shut and threw herself across Severus's desk and into his lap. Grabbing his face in her hands she filled his field of vision and offered the only solace she could think of.

"Use me," she pleaded. "You're angry and you want to release that anger. Use me. Release it until you can control it again. I can take it. Use me."

His black eyes focused on hers. The room settled, flames steadying and bottles quieting. His muscles seemed to relax all at once and his head fell forward until he rested his face against her chest. He took a few steadying breaths before pulling back and clutching her close to him, her nose in the crook of his neck.

"Never, Hermione. I will never take my anger out on you," Severus promised. "I am calm now, I think. Release the door. Let us talk with Miss Weasley about her…indiscretion."


	19. Relieving Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus works out some tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is wholly Severus's POV. I promise to make the next chapter more evenly split between the two. I had other plans for this chapter but the word count got away from me.

Chapter 19: Relieving Tension

                The talk with the redheaded witch was…tense…to say the least. Severus occluded to all hell and back to keep from hexing the bint… or strangling her with his bare hands…as she recounted her tale of confiding in Mr. Longbottom that which was not her secret to share. She kept insisting that the boy would never tell a soul, so afraid of Severus’s wrath and losing Hermione’s friendship that it wouldn’t even occur to him to mention it. To anyone. Ever. The entire interaction was relayed interspersed with profound apologies for intruding on their privacy, being disrespectful in her discourse with him and about him, and her inability to. Keep. Her. Mouth. Shut. And, of course, promises that it would never happen again and she would take their secret to the grave before telling anyone else.

                Severus made note to test those waters thoroughly. To refrain from outright murder, he instead fantasized about what he could do to the two Gryffindors to assure their silence. He gleefully envisioned a one-on-one meeting wherein he verbally eviscerated the younger wizard whilst slyly insinuating physical torture should his tongue slip. He contemplated _obliviating_ him until he was a drooling mess but nixed that idea when he remembered the state of the boy’s parents and pity got the best of him. He also considered saying nothing at all, merely giving the wizard a knowing look and a lifted eyebrow and continuing on as if he had no worries about what the boy might or might not say and to whom. Let the boy torture himself with the possibilities.

                For the girl…well, she was already being quite harsh with herself and Hermione’s anger and disappointment might be punishment enough for the silly chit. For now, at least. Severus still wanted to wring her neck but could control the urge for a bit longer. Of course, it helped that Hermione had not removed herself from his lap for the confrontation, merely swinging sideways so she was no longer straddling him and could more effectively glare at her friend across the expanse of his desk. Her hands kept busy, one rubbing soothing circles on his forearm, right above his Dark Mark, though he didn’t know if she was aware of that, while the other tangled with his fingers where they lay upon the warm skin of her thigh above her transfigured tights, conveniently hidden under his desk. She squeezed his hand every few moments and he could feel the muscles of her thigh bunch under his hand.

                After more apologies and promises than he thought necessary, yet still not enough to soothe his mind, he sent the younger witch on her way with the threat of permanently tongue-tying her if she uttered another word about that which was none of her business and slumped back in his seat, lowering his shields and shaking with pent up frustration and fear. Hermione turned herself so she was once again straddling him, cupped his face in her hands, and lowered her head until her forehead was touching his. She took deep inhalations through her nose and released long exhalations through her pretty little mouth. He found himself changing his breathing pattern to match hers which calmed him further, but not quite…enough. He still wanted to strike something, to lash out until he was too weak to move, to think, to feel.

                “Hermione,” Severus whispered. “I need…I can’t…please, know that I would _never_ …but, I need-“

                Severus knew he wasn’t making much sense but it must have done for Hermione because she nodded, the friction of their foreheads rubbing together warming his skin, and climbed off of his lap. He remained seated, clenching his fists and breathing deeply to calm himself. She would leave, because that was the safest thing to do and really the only sane and logical option, and he could snap, let his control go and his magic unfurl and probably destroy his office in the process. He could feel it building at the base of his spine, akin to an orgasm if he were being honest and the release was going to feel just as good and leave him feeling just as exhausted and empty afterwards.

                A movement, slight but enough to disturb the air around him, brought him out of his red haze and the picture of Hermione, naked, on her knees, eyes downcast and holding out a set of red ropes and a flogger, kept him out. He didn’t want to hurt her, never in anger but his fight or flight response and the adrenaline and frustration and fear that kept it going was demanding release, and as usual with her he was finding it hard to control himself when faced with her playing submissive before him. She was beautiful like this, golden skin on full display, brown-tipped breasts rising and falling and begging for his attention. He wanted to muss her up, to mark her skin, to stripe it pink and red and feel it heat under his ministrations.

                His hands itched to wrap themselves around her neck and squeeze until her eyes rolled in the back of her head and he could feel her pulse speed up with adrenaline and then slow as the oxygen depleted in her system. He wanted to feel that pulse fluttering around his cock as he buried himself in her cunt over and over until she begged him to stop. He wanted to break something and here she was, offering herself up to him, begging to be shattered like the glass of his potion vials. This would leave less of a mess to clean up than what his magic would surely do to his office. Win-win.

                Occluding just enough to keep from seriously hurting her, Severus rose deftly to his feet, now-steady hands reaching for what his brown-haired nymph was offering. The ropes slid silkily between his fingers in stark contrast to the worn leather of the flogger as he relieved his witch of her burden. He smirked as her hands instantly found their position behind her head. Severus conjured a ring in the center of the stone ceiling and sent the rope through it. Now that his mind was made up, he wasn’t wasting any time. He wanted her strung up and strung out in subspace as soon as possible.

                Working quickly he had her hands bound together and her lithe body suspended from the ceiling, toes just brushing the stone floor. He took a bit of pity on her and cast a slight lightening charm on her to relieve some of the weight from her wrists and shoulders. Not enough to make it not hurt, but enough to make sure they could play for quite some time before the pain was absolutely unbearable.

                Her eyes were downcast still, like the good girl she was, but he found he wanted to see her face, wanted to watch her pupils dilate and her mouth fall open as she gasped in pain, in pleasure. Severus used the handle of the flogger to lift her face until her beautiful eyes met his. He searched their depths for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. Well, other than the norm in this particular situation. Finding only acceptance and welcome and desire, Severus divested himself of his clothing, noting the way Hermione’s eyes couldn’t keep from darting down to his erection bobbing heavily between his thighs.

                “In due time, pet,” he assured her. “What are your safe words?”

                “Crookshanks and Buckbeak, Master,” she answered promptly.

                “Good girl. Now, should I tell you what I’m going to do to you or do you want it to be a surprise?” Severus watched her body tremble as she mentally prepared herself for whatever was coming. He decided he wanted to keep her trembling just. Like. This. “A surprise, I think.”

                The way her mouth fell open and her eyes fell half-shut assured him that he had made the right choice. To show her he meant business, Severus ran the flogger across the tips of her breasts, tickling her clavicle before flicking his wrist and sending the flogger flicking against her right breast. He hissed in pleasure at the sight of the red blooming around her hardened nipple just as she hissed in pain. He didn’t let her get used to the sensation before he was sending the flogger back, alternating his strikes to hit both breasts evenly again and again, occasionally bringing it down on her soft belly or her mons before inevitably returning to her tits until there was no golden skin left peeking through the crimson and she was writhing in her bonds.

                She was expecting another blow to her torso, he was sure, when he surprised her again and struck her across the tops of her thighs. Her legs twitched and he struck them again before they finished. He wasn’t hitting her particularly hard. There was a sting to his blows, definitely, but it was the unceasing consistency of them that made them painful. He left her legs striped from the flogger’s tails and walked around her to pay special attention to her delicate back and rounded buttocks.

                He was starting to work up a sweat and she was panting and sobbing and soaked with perspiration before he felt himself finally begin to calm down enough to safely drop his shields completely. She was lovely like this, tendons and muscles in stark relief, red and pink and gold all over, like a sunset, her hair a mess and her thighs glistening. He wanted to… _needed_ to see her face so he surprised her again by spinning her in her bonds. At least, he tried to surprise her. That wasn’t really possible in the state she was in.

                Her eyes were unfocused, hazel completely obscured by pupils wide as saucers. Her mouth was slack and her head lolled on her neck, boneless and heavy. She was completely out of it, deep into subspace, and he knew it was going to take a lot to shock her out of it. He contemplated the flogger in his hand for a split second before flipping it handle out, sanitizing it, and bringing the knob on the end to her dripping wet slit. Sliding the ridged handle through her pussy lips, Severus watched as her eyes gained a bit more awareness. When she was marginally more cognizant of what was going on around her, he thrust the handle insider her until his knuckles slapped against the moist flesh of her pussy.

                Her eyes flew to his and she whimpered. That sound…Merlin, that sound…made him almost forget that he was denying her orgasm, teaching her a lesson. He could multi-task. He could work through his emotions, use her, and continue to teach her about self-control. He scoffed at the idea of self-control. He certainly wasn’t showing any, or at least barely showing any. He could control this, however. Her. Pleasure and pain and that weird space between the two.

                He withdrew the flogger from her greedy, grasping cunt and slammed it back in, fist again ramming into her, the knuckle of his thumb bumping her distended clit. Another whimper and another thrust. She was glorious in her pleasure, pulling against her bonds and thrusting her hips forward, seeking his attention, seeking more of the thick length he was pounding into her. He had released his tension and now wanted another release, an equally as exhausting release.

Leaving the flogger inside his witch, her tight little snatch holding it there, he ran his hands up her arms to the knots at her wrist. He untied her, manually because he wanted to feel her warm skin against his as he did so, and lifted her in his arms when she collapsed under her own weight. He stalked purposefully to the desk, flipped her down onto her stomach, and cast a few quick charms, one to keep the flogger thrusting and another for lubrication, before plunging three fingers deep into the spent witch’s puckered ass.

He stretched her and primed as much as his patience would allow him and then he grasped his achingly hard cock in hand and lined it up with her tight hole. He waited until he had a feel for the rhythm and then thrust into her just as the flogger was withdrawing. In and out in counterpane to the flogger, he fucked his witch, wrapping one hand in her impossible hair and another around her slender throat, almost so lost in the sensation of her tight walls clamped around him that he missed the signs of her impending orgasm. Almost. The muscle twitches started and he canceled his charm and pulled his cock out of her in an instant.

Hermione cried out at the emptiness where once she was full, her hips arching, desperately seeking his cock. Severus grasped the base of his cock and squeezed, fighting off his own orgasm just long enough to…he rolled her back over and slid her further up the desk so that her ass was supported by its edge and her thighs were spread, affording him the perfect view of her perfect pussy.

“Watch me,” he ordered, voice gravelly and low. “Merlin, witch, watch me while I cover your cunt with my cum.”

He waited for her eyes to shoot down to where his hand gripped his cock and watched as he started to jack up and down furiously. He focused his attention on the bulbous head, flicking his thumb across his slit until he felt his balls pull up and that familiar tightening of muscles at the small of his back. Aiming his cock, he came hard, splattering her quim with his seed and claiming her in the only way he could, the only way he probably ever would. If this was all he could have of her, by damn he would take it, take her, take this, until he inevitably fucked it up or she came to her senses and realized she could do so much better than an old, ugly former spy and Death Eater who lived 10 months out of the year at a boarding school and had nothing to offer her.

                He collapsed above her, his elbows keeping him from crushing her beneath him and her thighs cradling his hips. They were both panting, sweat-soaked and worn out. Her face was stained with dried tears and mucous, her hair was hopelessly tangled around her head, and her body was covered in red welts that were probably starting to sting now that she was no longer in subspace and feeling everything. Her breaths were coming harder now and he knew from experience that she was fully aware and it was hitting her all at once, the pain and the aborted pleasure. A few whimpers escaped her dried and chapped lips and Severus got himself together enough to scoop her up and carry her into his private rooms.

                Healing tinctures filled the tub and the scent of lavender permeated the room. She had allowed him to take what was left of his frustration out on her and he was going to repay her for it with every ounce of gentleness and kindness he had in his bitter and cynical body. He would hold her in his arms and tomorrow would play out how it played out. They would spend the day together, or apart, as she willed it and then they would spend the night with his cock deep inside his witch. Then he would send her back to her bed to sleep, confident that she would remain dreamless, while he tossed and turned alone in his bed, his arms achingly empty and his heart wishing, for once, for something different.

                And at some point he would have a completely rational conversation with a young wizard who held his life in clumsy hands. A life he didn’t even know he wanted and knew he would never be able to keep. A life he had no right to with all that he had done. He was too much of a selfish bastard to give her up though and so he would plead, if necessary, for the oaf to keep mum and he would hold tight until she walked away, whenever that was, and he would thank the fates for her until his dying breath.

                But that was all for later. Right now, he had a wasted witch waiting for him to care for her, to take her aches away and soothe her frazzled nerves. It was his greatest pleasure to do so and…to be honest, he really wanted a soak and to crawl into his bed and sleep until hunger or the need to piss woke him. As if hearing his thoughts, Hermione’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that she had missed lunch and had been rerouted whilst on her way to dinner.

                “Let me clean you up, pet, and I’ll have Tibby fetch some food. I can’t have you wasting away to nothing,” Severus remarked. He left the _where would I be, then_ unspoken.

                Hermione grunted her approval of the plan and Severus made quick, albeit gentle work of washing her, letting the healing properties of the water wash away the stinging welts and the heat loosen her muscles. Her hair was a task he wasn’t sure he was up to at the moment so he apologized before casting a simple cleaning charm that wasn’t in any way sufficient but would have to do for now. He twisted it atop her head, summoning a ribbon previously used as a bookmark to tie it out of the way. A quick wash of his own sweaty bits and they were soon dry and dressed, he in loose pants and she in one of his many shirts.

                Being too tired to put much effort into eating, he requested simple sandwiches and tea and they ate them already in bed, banishing the crumbs because, _magic,_ and falling asleep soon after, Hermione tucked under his chin with one thigh tucked between his and her hand over his heart. He sank his fingers into the curls at the nape of her neck, placed his other hand over hers as if he could somehow keep her there and slept.


	20. Neville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione reflects on the evening. A nice way to wake up. Domestic fluff. And Neville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of filler to get me to the next chapter. I have planned out another 10/11 chapters and an epilogue. Sometimes the chapters don't get everything in them that I planned for so there might be more than that. Thanks to those who are sticking with this story. It will go through the entire school year until summer with new core characters introduced sporadically as they fit into the story-line. Luna is next, btw, to make an appearance!

Chapter 20: Neville

                Waking up in Severus’s arms was her favorite way to start the day. She was sore and achy, but not as much as she should have been so she knew Severus must have healed her at least a little bit. The evening before had been…too many things to list, actually. She had never seen Severus so angry and she hoped not to see him that way again. When she had begged him to take that anger out on her it was in a last ditch effort to a) save Ginny as Severus was surely going to kill her and b) save Severus as the inevitable stint in Azkaban would pale in comparison to the guilt that he would let eat away at his soul should he hurt either of the witches sat in his office. Oh, and of course there was point c) which was to save the hundreds of galleons worth of specimens and potions that were liable to explode if he didn’t calm down.

                He hadn’t really surprised her when he had immediately occluded and relaxed in order to keep from hurting her. Turning her offer down was almost guaranteed. Hermione couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t providing him with what he truly needed or wanted to the core of his being. Why else would he have gotten into this lifestyle if it wasn’t something he craved? She knew that was ridiculous but she still wanted to give him everything that he wanted, liked, preferred in his sexual partners. She needed to be able to meet his every need, even if that need meant that she ended the day crying from pain or pleasure or, more likely, both. She wanted him to be content with her, to want for nothing, to never end the day wishing for something else, something more. Some _one_ else and more.

                That was why, when they had finished their _t_ _èt_ _è_ _á t_ _èt_ _è_ with Ginny, and he had come down from murderous rage to a mix of anger, fear, and frustration that she could read, even if nobody else could see it, she had willfully misinterpreted his plea and instead of leaving as he was trying to ask her to do, she had grabbed the ropes and the flogger and taken her position. He wasn’t going to hurt her, not seriously, not permanently, and not in any way that was going to eat at him, but he needed to let loose and she needed him to realize that she could take whatever he needed to dish out to her.

                And he had let loose. His blows were moderately intense, bearable, but sure and swift and ceaseless. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to work out his frustration and he would tire himself out physically long before he tired himself out mentally if he rained down blows with the intent to hurt and hurt badly. So many years at this, he definitely knew that so Hermione wasn’t afraid of what he might do to her. Blow after blow brought stinging pain and breathless anticipation and finally her vision had tunneled and time seemed to stop and all she knew was the _whoosh_ of air as he brought the flogger down and then the _fwap_ of it striking flesh followed by the sweet sting and the rush of blood to the surface of her heated skin.

                Time stretched between blows until he stopped. Her body was loose and limp yet somehow tight and tense and waiting for the next blow or the next…something. Hermione remembered feeling leather, warm from his hand, sliding through her slippery folds and then…and then! It was in her and he was in her and she had never felt so full and her whole being centered on that fullness until..until…until…she wanted to cry when he withdrew from her and wanted to cry again when he marked her with his seed, claimed her for there was no doubt in her mind that was what he had done.

                Hermione sighed as her memory of the evening came to a close, tightening her hold on the arm Severus had wrapped around her and nestling her bottom further into his hips. He huffed out a breath onto her neck and Hermione smiled. His thigh slid over hers, legs long enough to settle comfortably on the bed in front of her. Hermione felt his muscles tense mere moments before his weight pitched towards her and she found herself flattened onto her stomach with a very awake and very aroused Severus Snape against her back.

                She didn’t resist when he placed gentle kisses against the nape of her neck and along the tops of her shoulders. She certainly didn’t protest when he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her spine, dipping his tongue into the dimples at the small of her back. When he lifted her until she was on her knees, spread her cheeks apart and buried his tongue in her, she put up absolutely zero fight or fuss. She knew she wasn’t going to be brought to completion, knew this was just another in what was sure to be a long line of unsatisfying encounters, but she didn’t care about that when his mouth was down there doing that.

                He brought her to the edge and then did it again and then once more for good measure before he finally slid into her sloppy wet center and rode her to his completion, pulling out of her and splashing her back with his spend, once again marking her. She collapsed, legs and quim quivering, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. He rolled himself off of her and laid panting, arm thrown over his face and cock twitching against his thigh. Hermione waited until she could breathe properly once more before leaning over to kiss him sweetly on the tip of his nose and dragging herself out of bed to go shower and prepare for a day of homework that she had not gotten to the previous day and an inevitable confrontation with Neville, much as she honestly didn’t want to do either.

                She wasn’t surprised when halfway through her conditioning routine the door opened and the tall, dark, and devastatingly sexy wizard stepped in behind her. They washed in comfortable silence, as if they had been doing so for years, brushed their teeth the muggle way after Severus pulled out a spare toothbrush from a cabinet, and Hermione did not miss the significance of Severus placing _her_ toothbrush in the cup next to his, and dressed, Hermione once again raiding his wardrobe for pieces he didn’t wear and working her magic.

                This time she grabbed a soft pair of lounge pants and simply shrunk them to fit, vowing she would find out who kept buying him pajamas and _why,_ and slipping into one of his collarless shirts, tying the tails together over her right hip and leaving it unbuttoned enough to slide off one shoulder. She twisted her hair atop her head and stuck her wand, _accio’d_ from her pile of clothes, through it to keep it there. She thought nothing of sitting on Severus’s sitting room floor and opening her arithmancy text, retrieved from her bag which Severus had Tibby fetch when the elf brought breakfast. She had an essay to write and nobody would be looking for her since the two people who might now knew exactly where she was and weren’t going to come calling any time soon.

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                Severus sat on his lounging couch, legs crossed, tea cup near to hand, and marking piled next to him, a self-inking quill ready to go whenever he was. He munched haphazardly on a piece of toast liberally slathered in raspberry jam and watched Hermione claim his coffee table and a good portion of his floor, absentmindedly sipping tea and nibbling on slices of melon. If he ignored the fact that his lover was young enough to have _homework_ and imagined she was simply working, on work, from a job an adult would have and not schoolwork because she was a student, a student of his, a student he was fucking, then he could easily picture a lifetime of such domesticity.

                As it was though, she _was_ working on schoolwork and it unnerved him, though he of course knew that she was a student and had, in fact, been quite intimate with her in his own classroom while she was doing said schoolwork and surrounded by her peers. He couldn’t follow that particular train of thought if he expected to remain sane so he chose to ignore the specifics and just enjoy the time spent simply being in her company. He made it through his pile of marking and she was probably an entire foot over the required length of her essay when they finally spoke their first words to each other for the day.

                “So, about Neville…”

                “I’ll speak to Longbottom…”

                They spoke at the same time, minds obviously as in sync as their Sunday morning routines. Hermione smiled faintly and Severus took that as his cue to continue.

                “I have already sent an owl, which should be delivering a request to meet in my office during lunch today. I’ll speak to Longbottom and impart to him the importance of discretion in regards to his own…continued good health.”

                “Severus, you can’t just threaten my friends…” Hermione admonished only to be cut off midsentence.

                “Watch. Me,” Severus argued, lips twisted in a sinister smirk. “I would not like to have to find new employment, though I could bear it if need be. What I will not tolerate, pet, is anyone whispering about you or what we do together in private. I will not have your name besmirched because a loudmouth harpy and a bumbling idiot feel the need to spread salacious gossip and titter to their friends about the Gryffindor princess and the Death Eater.”

                “And while I think it’s sweet that you want to protect my honor, I am quite capable of protecting myself. And they won’t spread gossip about us, even if you don’t threaten their ‘continued good health’,” Hermione argued.

                “I don’t like platitudes and assurances,” Severus grumbled. “I prefer guarantees and I _guarantee_ that our names will never appear together out of their mouths once I am done with Mr. Longbottom. This is not up for discussion; the decision has been made and you are not to argue with me on this.”

                Severus realized it was the wrong thing to say almost the moment it came out of his mouth. Unfortunately, all of the time turners had been destroyed and so he could not go back and take it back, say it differently, not say it at all. So he was stuck dealing with the consequences of his ill-thought words.

                Hermione’s eyes narrowed, her teeth clenched and her shoulders straightened. Her hair positively sparked with outrage. She swiftly packed her school bag with a handy spell for just such a thing that she had probably mastered a week into first year and stood straight and tall and rife with indignation, her eyes shooting fire at him from across the table.

                “I am not your toy, Severus, to play with and then put on a shelf until you want me again.” She held up her hand in the universal symbol for ‘don’t even think about interrupting me’ when he opened his mouth to…well, interrupt her. “I will not bow down to your every command and sit meekly as you threaten my friends and command me not to react or even discuss it. I might submit to you sexually but I am my own person with my own mind and you will not lessen me to suit your whims. That is not what we discussed and not what I agreed to. We are in a relationship, as equals, and you will treat me with respect due an equal of yours. And that means we will discuss whatever the hell I feel like discussing, whether you want to discuss it or not!”

                Hermione lowered her hand and he took that to mean he could speak without risking a hex or two. “I meant no disrespect, Hermione. I just can’t stomach the idea of you being ridiculed or ostracized because of me. I don’t want you dragged into the shit-show that is the court of public opinion when it comes to me.”

                “Yeah, well, you have a hell of a way of showing me you respect me when you command my silence and obedience on a matter that also concerns me, even more than it concerns you,” Hermione scoffed. “I will never be meek and mild and obedient outside of bed so if that’s what you want then you’ll have to look elsewhere.”

                “I want you, Hermione,” Severus insisted, standing and stepping around the table to grab her by the arms and bring his face to hers. “However you will have me, I want you.”

                “Trust me, then, about this, about my friends. I can handle it, I swear to you,” Hermione whispered, her breath brushing against his lips.

                “I…fine. I will not threaten bodily harm to your friends,” Severus conceded.

                “None of that Slytherin nonsense, Severus. I know your tricks now,” Hermione scolded, though her lips were tilted up at the corners.

                “I will not threaten bodily, mental, or emotional harm or distress to your friends,” Severus amended, damning her for being too smart and knowing him a bit too well.

                “Thank you,” Hermione replied, pressing her lips gently against his once, twice, thrice, before stepping away and grabbing her bag.

                “You’re still leaving?” Severus asked.

                “It’s nearly lunch time. I want to take my things back to my room and change. And if we don’t show up after both missing breakfast, there will be talk. Or, at least, speculation. Someone is bound to notice eventually,” Hermione pointed out, summoning her pile of clothes to shove into her bag, slipping on her shoes and heading towards the door. “I’ll be back this evening for more of my lesson, if it pleases you, Master,” she quipped cheekily.

                “Oh, yes, I do think it will please me greatly, my little nymph,” Severus purred. “I have rounds so it will have to be after. I will send further instructions.”

                Hermione nodded once and left the room. Severus sat back on his couch, lost in thoughts of how he wanted to teach her about control until his wards shimmered, indicating someone was at his door. Longbottom, he realized, lips spreading in a truly terrifying grin. He would keep his promise. He would not threaten the boy. He might insinuate, imply, hint at…but he would not outright threaten him. He wouldn’t want his witch upset with him, after all.

                Severus summoned his cloak, wanting the full billowing effect for this meeting, and strode purposefully to his office, flinging open the door just as he had when Hermione had knocked on it not that long ago, and when Ginevra Weasley had done so a few short days later. He expected to see a cowering Neville Longbottom, trembling before him with his eyes downcast and a general air of fear and nervousness hovering around his head.

                What he did not expect, and therefore was not prepared for, was the low tackle to his middle that sent him sprawling onto his office floor, head bouncing off the stones with a loud thunk. He was just dazed enough that the punch to his face also caught him off guard but his fight or flight kicked in and he managed to block the next punch, buck the younger wizard over his head, and roll back to his feet, blood trickling down his face from a split on his cheek under his left eye. He summoned his wand, took a dueling stance and waited for his opponent to stand.

                The boy sat up, knees bent and head between them, all fight seemingly draining from him. His shoulders were heaving from anger, exertion, who knew what else and his fists were still clenched. Eventually Severus relaxed his stance and extended his hand to help the young man to his feet. A moment of hesitation, a suspicious look, and a warily extended hand later and the boy was on his feet, standing proudly in front of the professor, former Death Eater, and extremely powerful wizard he had just had the monumentally stupid idea of attacking.

                “I don’t care what you do now, sir,” the boy said, chin held high. “If you hurt her, I swear I’ll…”

                “Silence,” Severus ordered, voice barely louder than a menacing whisper. “I could have you expelled for this, Longbottom.”

                “I don’t care,” Neville reiterated, though his eyes told a different story.

                “I said I could, not that I would. She is…lucky…to have friends such as yourself. I have no intention of harming her, boy. However, if word were to get out about our relationship…” Severus let his voice trail off meaningfully.

                “It won’t. I remember what happened to her when people thought she was dating Harry, and Krum, and Ron. She tries to act outraged and above it all, but I know it hurt her to have people think of her that way. I won’t be the one to bring that kind of attention back to her.”

                Severus had to admit he was a bit impressed with the wizard standing in front of him. Maybe he wasn’t such a bumbling idiot after all. “See that you aren’t,” he said simply, holding the door open and effectively dismissing the boy.

                “Thank you, sir,” Longbottom said as he passed through the office door into the hall.

                “For?”

                “Not murdering me, or obliviating me, or any of the other dozen things you probably could have done to me.”

                “Dozen, Mr. Longbottom? I know three hundred and fifteen ways to kill you, most of which would look like accidents and at least that many ways to make you disappear completely. Don’t underestimate how much I care about Hermione’s happiness and, for your own good, pray that you always remain necessary to that happiness,” Severus advised before slamming the door shut in the wizard’s face, after watching all color drain from it in abject terror of course.

                When he was sure the young man had left the hall, Severus very quietly added 20 points to Gryffindor. Then he penned a note giving the boy a week of detention with Filch and had Tibby deliver it to the boy’s room with a sprig of moonseed plant, a tag with a simple #1 upon it tied around the stem. That should be enough to assure the boy’s silence for a bit.

                Then he penned another letter, a list of instructions for Hermione to follow that evening, grinning at the possibilities for the rest of the week.

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                Hermione didn’t see Neville at lunch and when she saw him at dinner it was clear that something had happened with Severus. He wouldn’t talk about it though, assuring her things were fine and he wasn’t going to say anything and he supported her in whatever decision she made about her own life. She kissed his cheek and smiled across the table at Ginny, glad that she had two friends who knew what was going on with her and weren’t judging her for it. She didn’t have to hide from everyone, though that didn’t mean she was ready to advertise to Harry or Ron that she was in a relationship with the fearsome Potion’s Master.

                It had been confirmed that they were going to be having a costume party to celebrate Halloween that upcoming weekend and Hermione spent the dinner hour discussing details with her friends and worry free. And when dinner had concluded, she was genuinely happy to be able to tell her friends that she couldn’t go back to Gryffindor Tower with them because she had other plans and not to have to lie about what those plans were. Severus’s instructions had her all worked up all afternoon and she was excited for the evening even though she knew she wasn’t going to finish. She also knew that she wasn’t going to be able to see him a few evenings that week due to staff meetings, late night classes to pick certain ingredients, that sort of thing and she wanted the few evenings she had with him to be perfect for him, everything he wanted or needed.

                So when curfew passed and she knew the only people out would be Filch and Severus himself on rounds, she crept out of her room and down to his office to wait for him, glancing at the list of instructions he sent to her and shivering in anticipation.

  1. Remove all clothing except for your knickers
  2. Use the provided ropes to tie your ankles to the arms of my chair
  3. Clamp your nipples until they sting
  4. Place the vibrator inside your knickers; it is charmed to stay in place
  5. Grip yourself behind your knees at which time a charm will activate to bind your hands to your thighs.
  6. Activate the charm with Vibrato and allow it to stimulate you until you are about to climax
  7. Deactivate the charm with Finite
  8. After a count of 90 seconds you will repeat steps 6 and 7.
  9. You will do this for the duration of your wait



                This next task would definitely test her control as she would have to be the one to stop herself before orgasm. She wasn’t sure if she could handle it but by Merlin she was going to try. She would show Severus that she could handle any challenge he wanted to lay at her feet.


	21. Lesson Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes it through the week. Sort of. Severus doesn't make it easy.

Chapter 21: Lesson Learned

                That night was difficult. Every night after that was equally as difficult as Severus sent her instructions each day, whether he could be with her or not, and she dutifully followed them. He demanded she wear her new toy to class on Monday and teased and tortured her with it, his own special notice-me-not and muffliatio the only privacy he gave her as he brought her up, up, up again and again without ever letting her crest. Throughout the day she would feel a low level vibration, her only warning to cast privacy charms before he activated the toy at a level that was enough to drive her mad but not enough to really push her into orgasm. More than once she found herself grinding her pelvis against her seat, trying to get more friction on her clit, and had to stop herself, not wanting to accidentally push herself into climax and earn a punishment.

                That night he appeared in her room, threw her down spread eagle over her school trunk and buried his nose and his tongue in her swollen, abused pussy. He lapped at her juices, seemingly enjoying breathing in the many layers of arousal, until she was pulling at his hair, desperate for him to stop before she came down his throat. He pulled away and kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep in her mouth and imploring her to taste herself. When she felt she would surely pass out from lack of oxygen he pulled away, crawled onto the trunk with his legs on either side of hers, released his cock and fucked her mouth until he came with a loud grunt and a command to swallow.

                He carried her to her en suite and deposited her gently into her tub, nothing compared to his but perfectly adequate, before kissing her nose and leaving her to bathe and sleep. She woke twice in the night, wet and sticky and so aroused she nearly broke down and diddled her clit until she finally got some relief. But she remained steadfast and when she opened her eyes for a third time, this time the light of day the culprit, and saw the instructions awaiting her on her bedside table, she smiled, eager to meet the challenge, even if she wanted to cry at the idea of another day as frustrating as the last.

                These instructions were for that evening, however, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she would have the day to recover at least. More fool she, it seemed, because her first instruction was to drink her tea and she did, not once sniffing as she had been taught or thinking about what a potions master might have laced it with. She felt her arousal spike and in an instant it was like her entire body had been set on fire. She burned, writhing on her bed, hips thrusting in the air towards nothing at all, hands pulling at her hair, nipples pebbling almost instantly and clit fully engorged and throbbing. She reached for her instructions, blinking to clear the water from her eyes so she could read them, and whimpered as she noticed how they had changed and now read that she was to prepare for the day and get to breakfast.

                Every slip and slide of cloth against her skin was like a thousand daggers of pure pleasure plunging into her unceasingly as she walked through the halls, teeth gritted and concentration fully on making it to the Great Hall without touching anything or anybody. Upon her entrance to the hall her eyes sought out her lover and a blink later the excruciating pleasure/pain dimmed to a dull roar. She shakily took her seat when he arched an eyebrow and tilted his head towards her table. It took all of her willpower to keep her hands from trembling as she spooned porridge into her mouth. With each passing moment the sensations lessened until by the end of the meal she felt almost normal. Raw, but normal.

                Pulling out her instructions and looking at them under the table she groaned at the third step. It simply said, “Attract no attention today, pet.” Hermione didn’t know what that meant until she left the hall and was no longer in Severus’s presence. It was like all of her pleasure sensors were blown wide open once more and even the sensation of a breeze through the corridor was enough to have her moaning. It seemed he was going to leave it up to her to control herself and not let anyone around her in on her predicament. At least until lunch when she would see him again and the torture…erm…lesson would take a break.

                She nearly screamed when a little Slytherin girl ran past her, her long hair brushing against Hermione’s arm. Classes were actually a bit easier as she could take a seat in the back, away from the other students, and there was less of a chance of accidental touching. That didn’t mean there was no contact, just not as much as there might have been had she sat with a classmate. She very insistently declined an invitation to spend some time with Neville and Ginny, both of them giving her knowing looks and winks and thank God not asking her any questions. When they both tried to hug her she made some excuse and ran, not trusting her body were it to be pressed full frontal against anyone else’s.

                By the time the day was over and she could review her next instruction locked safely away in her room, she was pretty sure she was going to beg him to flog her instead, as long as he ended this…whatever it was. Her final instruction was once again to drink her tea and she gulped it down greedily, hoping it contained the antidote and thanking every god she could name when the pleasurable sensations ceased all at once. She crawled to her bathroom, drew a hot bath and let the water sooth her cramped muscles. She slept that night like the dead, body and mind too exhausted to even dream.

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                Severus was quite enjoying teaching Hermione a lesson in control. He felt a bit bad about slipping her that dark lust potion, however, and decided to let her bathe and rest that night even though thinking of her so aroused that every whisper of a touch would have her riding the edge made him want to play with her, dance his fingers and his tongue and his cock over every last inch of her sensitized skin until she was nothing but animal instinct, and then take her like an animal, rutting into her from behind, his own nails digging into her skin and his teeth buried in her neck.

                He wanked furiously that night, sitting at his desk, spread naked across his couch, bent under the spray of the shower, back on his side of the bed which now smelled like her. He couldn’t seem to stop himself until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep of his own, his long fingers still wrapped around his softening cock. Wednesdays N.E.W.T. level classes were postponed until the evening, the students being required to harvest ingredients under the first quarter moon, the halfway point between the new and the full, ensuring the ingredients were neither too weak to work nor too strong to be stable enough for brewing.

                Severus wanted his witch naked in the moonlight. He had plans. How he was going to carry out those plans, he hadn’t quite worked out, but his magnificent intellect was on it and he would have it figured out, by Merlin. His pleasure was not to be denied and he had plans, damn it all. Naked in the moonlight plans. Severus wanked again to thoughts of his plans before showering once more and drawing up Hermione’s instructions for the day, sending them off with Tibby and heading out to break his fast and catch a glimpse of his witch.

                She looked frazzled to say the least. Her eyes kept darting towards him and then back to her table to see if anyone had noticed her looking at him. Her hair was more wild than usual and she twitched any time someone moved in her general vicinity. He would have laughed had he not felt so guilty about it all. His message to her that morning had told her simply to be ready and he was quite certain that his keen intellect must have been _evanescoed_ with his spunk as he didn’t even think that such a vague and somewhat threatening message might have put the witch right back on edge.

                Severus sneered at his own folly, conjured parchment and a self-inking quill and penned a quick addendum to his morning missive, using a neat bit of magic to copy the note onto her own copy and causing that copy to hum slightly, alerting her to a change. He cringed imperceptibly as she flinched, quite noticeably and pulled out her copy with hands trembling so hard he could see it from across the hall. When her shoulders slumped with relief and she sent a half-smile his way, he felt even guiltier for what he had put her through the last two days.

                He almost gave up on his lesson but his plans…his glorious, moonlit plans stayed his hand. He was still working out how it was all going to, well, work out, but he was sure he would come to the solution in time. He had several ideas including a _protego_ and a reflection charm, definitely a _muffliato_ , perhaps a chameleon charm as well. Cast in tandem they would be able to see one another but nobody else would be able to see them. They would blend in with their surroundings and he could assure that anybody looking their way saw nothing but plants and moonlight.

                _Yes, those should do, Sev. Let the little buggers pick to their hearts’ content while you drive your witch mad as the moon kisses her skin._

                Severus was so caught up in his plans that he failed to realize he was wearing a sinister smile on his lips, which was serving the purpose of thoroughly terrifying everybody who saw it, including a few professors.

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                No words had ever made her more nervous than “Be Ready” in Severus’s spiky scrawl. Ready for what? More of yesterday? Something worse? She didn’t know if she could handle another day like that. She wished she knew what she was supposed to be ready for or when she was supposed to be ready. It might have gone a long way in settling her nerves. She could barely eat anything at breakfast, trying and failing not to look at him to see what kind of mood he was in, as if his face ever revealed anything of the sort.

                When she heard the hum from her pocket she thought she might have a heart attack on the spot. She could barely hold her hands steady enough to read what he had sent to her. When she did read it though, she felt her body go boneless in relief.

                _Relax. Tonight in the moonlight, be ready. I want you skyclad, my little nymph._

                Hermione considered the possibilities. She would be outside, surrounded by her classmates, possibly visible to anybody passing by a window. She was sure he would have privacy all figured out, considering how truly livid he had been that she had been walking around in lingerie and someone might have seen what he considered “his”. He certainly wasn’t going to risk anyone seeing her fully naked and most definitely wasn’t going to risk getting caught fucking her. So she wasn’t as freaked out as she would have been had they both been muggles and considering public sex. At school. In the middle of a class outing.

                She refolded her note, sent a small smile up to her lover, and proceeded to go about her day carefree. When her night class was near she skipped back to her room for a quick shower, slicked some hair cream through her locks so they would curl more loosely than normal, used a depilatory on her legs and underarms, and dressed with expediency in mind, blouse but no bra, vest, or tie, skirt and knickers but socks, not tights. Slip on shoes, not tied.

                She was excited, anxious, and scared out of her wits in turns. Whatever Severus had planned, it was sure to keep her mind firmly in the present and exhaust her enough to keep the dreams at bay. She couldn’t wait.

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                Severus’s plan went off without a hitch. He assigned lists of ingredients to each pair of students, knowing Hermione worked without a partner and making a big show out of how desperately he did _not_ want to be her partner. After the students went gallivanting off to inexpertly pick fungi, herbs, roots, and blossoms, he led Hermione, oh-so-put-out, exactly in the opposite direction of the rest of the group to a field of tall grass.

                With protections set in place he wasted no time in stripping his witch and laying her back in the grass, not caring a bit about her hair or her skin getting stained from the soil or the dampened blades. That’s what magic was for, after all. Besides, drops of dew dotted her skin, sparkling in the moonlight. He arranged her like a doll, hair spread in wild disarray around her delicate face, arms splayed above her head, knees bent and legs wide like a marionette with her strings cut. And like a marionette with no strings, she was not to move. That was her challenge for this evening.

                The moonlight, bright enough to see by but not enough that they might be seen from any great distance, licked along her skin, casting a silver sheen across her golden skin and catching on the tips of her breasts, the curve of her cheek, the moisture beading between her pretty pink folds. He stamped the picture of her like this on his mind, carving it there permanently. She was beautiful, his little nymph, his pet, his lo-

                He kept himself dressed, liking the dichotomy of her young, nubile body spread wantonly before his controlled, concealed form. For a while he simply stared at her, watching her belly quiver as her breathing got less steady, taking in the sight of her cunt growing wetter with anticipation and arousal, noticing the slight movements of her legs as she grew more and more anxious for him to _do_ something.

        So he did something. He sent his magic out into the earth, bending the grass to tickle her breasts, her sides, the sensitive spot on the side of her neck, the inside of her thighs. He sent the dew dancing along her skin, the drops of water vibrating along her pleasure points. A breeze blew up from nowhere and everywhere all at once, lapping at her breasts and blowing gently across her distended clitoris. He watched as his nymph was pleasured by the earth around her until he inexplicably grew jealous of how much she was enjoying it and canceled the charm.

                “You are beautiful, nymph,” he said, not missing the way her breath sped up at the sound of his voice. His pet did so love his voice. “You were meant to be this way, drenched in moonlight and mist and surrounded by the earth. You’re my woodland nymph and I am the ugly old satyr here to slake my thirst on you. Would you like me to ravish you, nymph? No need to speak; I can see the answer right there between your legs. Ambrosia from your womanly cup, nectar from the god Dionysus and the goddess Hedone sent as a gift just for me.”

                Severus knelt in the damp grass, clothes long since charmed to repel the damp and the earth, and crawled towards the feast that awaited him. And feast he did, biting sucking and licking at her flesh, marking her from neck to thigh with sharp, stinging nips, bruising pulls on her skin with and between his teeth, soothing the marks with hot, wet kisses and a teasing tongue. By the time he locked his lips onto her cunt she was a veritable fountain, so wet that he slurped her right up, dipping his tongue into her slick heat, wrapping his teeth around her engorged clit and sucking her labia one-by-one into his mouth.

                He waited for her thighs to clench ever so slightly and then pulled back to sit on his haunches, admiring his artwork upon her body, his signature as it were. The bright red of his strongest marks stood out even in the darkness of the night and he liked knowing that tomorrow she would walk around with his claim, his stake, his stamp of ownership hidden beneath her robes. Her neck sported a line of tiny love bits, easily concealed, leading like an arrow down and around to her left breasts where he had left a large mark around her tiny nipple and areola. Her right breast sported a similarly sized mark along the underside. Another line of bites trailed down her stomach, to both hips and on the inside of both thighs, some as high up as the sensitive skin where her thigh met her pelvis. It was a roadmap of pleasure.

                The largest mark of all was to her mons, slightly stubbled as she grew out her hair, right where her tiny slit started. All of her pussy was red and swollen from his ministrations except for the drops of creamy white liquid gathering anew at her center. He felt his wards ripple, alerting him to students returning to their gathering point, and knew he hadn’t much time left. It was a pity, really. He wanted her forever like this.

                “Look at me, nymph. I want to see your face,” Severus commanded. He waited until her unfocused eyes focused on him and then he released his aching cock and crawled over her once more. “My cock is also thirsty, nymph. He craves your nectar as I do. May he drink of you?”

                Her whimper was answer enough and Severus wasted no time, burying himself to the hilt and setting a brutal pace, truly ravishing her, pounding her into the soft grass and the cold earth until he felt his orgasm building in the base of his spine. Quickly he pulled out of her, grinding the sensitive head of his dick against her soft belly until he came with a shout, his seed once again spilling across her skin, a very visible claim. He pulled away to admire the way his cum glittered in the moonlight against her mottled belly as he caught his breath. He followed the line of fluid down until he caught sight of her cunt, contracting in aborted pleasure. He could watch this all night, do this all night, every night.

                Soon though he was forced to right them both and return to the group, making a point to grumble about witches who never stopped prattling on and the usefulness of silencing charms to cover for Hermione’s unusual silence. There was no way for them to meet the following evening but this encounter was enough to hold him over until Friday when he could finally bring his witch over the edge and hear his name on her lips. He would let her rest tomorrow in anticipation of a long night Friday.


	22. Sweet Release

Chapter 22: Sweet Release

                Hermione felt incredible. Incredibly frustrated. Incredibly on edge. Incredibly horny. She loved Severus’s attention and was proud of the pleasure she was able to bring him to, even if she only did so by remaining perfectly still and silent and letting him have his way with her. She especially loved the way he looked at her, like she was a precious gift to him and he was blessed to have her in his bed, in his life, spread out before him in a moonlit field of damp grass. But.

                But, her body ached, her back and neck tense from clenching in the throes of passion without the rush of endorphins from an orgasm to relax them afterwards.

                But, her core throbbed, constantly in a state of arousal, swollen and wet and needy and desperate for the release it kept being denied.

                But, her heart pined, longing for the connection she felt to him when she came around him and their pleasure was mutual and she wasn’t just a receptacle for his seed, his need, his desires.

                But.

                Hermione woke Thursday morning dreading the day. She didn’t know how she was going to make it through until tomorrow night without going barking mad and she prayed to whoever might be listening that Severus took it easy on her. She gathered her courage and looked for her instructions, letting out a shaky, albeit relieved, breath when there were none to be found.

                If he was granting her a reprieve then she was going to make the most of it. She was going to meet with her friends and talk about the Halloween ball and complain about homework and do whatever else she was supposed to do as a regular 19-year-old while she had the chance. Plan in mind, Hermione hopped out of bed, eager to get a start on her day of classes and normality. After she glamoured over all of the love bites dotting her body like some Signac post-impressionism piece.

                She made good on her plans, too, greeting Ginny and Neville with big hugs and chattering excitedly about their costumes over breakfast. She had decided on a costume last night while trying to occupy her mind and keep it off of her body’s response to Severus’s ministrations, desperately trying to keep from coming and failing his task for her. She wasn’t eager to share the news yet, however, and so played it mysterious with her friends, promising they’d thoroughly approve and changing the subject to Harry and Ron’s impending visit. They had finally gotten time off from training and had promised to come to the ball, after securing the blessing of the headmistress, of course.

                Ginny was all fussed over getting Harry to dress up to match her and went on ad nauseum about what she had managed to get him to agree to wear. Neville interjected when he could and gushed about the night blooming plants they had decided to use for the décor, adding that he was glad they decided to do away with the traditional jack-o-lanterns and bats. Hermione agreed, casually side-hugging the wizard as she would have Ron or Harry. He hugged her back briefly before stiffening and quickly dropping his arm, even going so far as to scoot a bit further down the bench and away from her.

                Hermione was confused until she followed his line of sight to the head table and realized Severus was glaring daggers at the tall boy by her side. She sent a puzzled look his way and his expression softened somewhat, though he definitely wasn’t pleased. If she didn’t know any better, she might say he was jealous. Of Neville. Which was ridiculous. Hermione shrugged it off and continued her conversation as if the disruption had never occurred.

                Classes were a bit more interesting than usual, though more because of the side conversations hidden behind privacy charms and the charmed notes passing unseen behind professors’ backs than for the content of the lessons. Everyone was excited about the ball Saturday and there was just too much to discuss and plan to be bothered with notes and lectures. Girls wanted to discuss hair and make-up and make sure they weren’t wearing the same costume as someone else. Oh, and who they were going with, of course. Boys wanted to discuss just how skanky the girls might dress and who was likely to get a leg over. And if they left with whom they came with, of course.

                By lunch Hermione was feeling a bit less tense and walked into lunch arm-in-arm with Ginny and Luna, smiling broadly and fairly carefree. The excitement of upcoming events permeated the Great Hall and as a result the room was loud and the children practically bounced in their seats. The professors at the head table looked…irate…aggravated…resigned to getting no actual teaching done until next week.

                House affiliation was ignored as students bounced from table to table, excitedly discussing the event with classmates and dates. They hadn’t seen this much excitement since the Yule Ball. The energy in the room was contagious and Hermione could barely sit still because of it. She was so jubilant in fact that when she bumped into Severus leaving the Great Hall she completely forgot herself and smiled broadly up at him, clutching onto his robes and standing too close for propriety’s sake.

                “Sorry, Severus, I didn’t see you,” Hermione chirped pleasantly, her exuberance overriding her common sense and awareness of her surroundings.

                “Excuse me, Miss Granger?” Severus growled menacingly, pulling her hands from his robes and setting her roughly aside. “You may think that being the brains of the Golden Trio, beloved darling of the wizarding world, best friend to Harry _Potter_ gives you some sort of free pass, but let me…enlighten…you. You are not…special. There will be no quarter granted to the Gryffindor Princess from me. Your inappropriate familiarity will not be _tolerated_. Detention. Tonight. My. Office.”

                Hermione lowered her eyes in deference, wishing she knew if he was saving face or truly upset with her. “Yes, Sir,” she murmured in reply.

                She kept her eyes on the ground as he passed her, trying hard to not lean into him as he passed close enough that his robes brushed her leg and the fingers of his right hand skipped by hers, his pinky catching briefly on the back of her hand, not even long enough for anyone else to possibly notice but just enough to reassure her that he had been putting on a show.

                Hermione slinked, thoroughly dejected to anyone watching, out of the Great Hall and on to her next class. Her glow had been dimmed somewhat, or at least it had to appear that way to others after such a dressing down from the potion’s master. Classmates offered condolences with some even commending her bravery for calling the most intimidating teacher at Hogwarts and certainly the most feared by his given name. She got a few curious glances, some speculating as to what made her do it, but it didn’t seem as if anyone believed they were _involved_ , thank goodness.

                Dinner for Hermione was a bit more low-key as she played the part of browbeaten and down-trodden student. She listened attentively as her friends continued their conversations about Saturday’s costume ball and ate her dinner more out of habit than anything else. Inside she was…a tangled mass of something. She was apprehensive about her detention. Perhaps it was a ruse to cover up a pleasant evening spent in Severus’s company, which she actually missed after 4 days without it. Or perhaps he was going to give her another lesson in control which she wasn’t sure she could possibly make it through without breaking. Her body needed a break, a release, a something, and sooner rather than later.

                It was the not knowing that had her anxiety spiking. She knew which one she wanted but he was in charge…unless. Unless. Hermione smiled, relaxing as she finally had a workable plan for the evening. Hermione loved plans. They simplified everything.

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                Severus was conflicted. This wasn’t necessarily new to him, especially after starting up with Hermione. She had slipped up, badly, in front of the entire school and McGonagall and he had to save face, save them from closer scrutiny. She had responded perfectly and he had not been asked about their interaction from other staff members, the event clearly not as suspicious as his paranoia was wanting him to believe. He still wanted to punish her for the slip, his palms itchy at the thought, but he had also promised himself to let her be today so that he could more thoroughly enjoy her tomorrow.

                It was a conundrum, to be sure. He wanted tomorrow to be about pleasure and so didn’t want to postpone her punishment until then. He also didn’t want to let her off the hook. She had to know how serious this was, how important it was to keep their relationship secret until its inevitable end. For both their futures.

                He was still contemplating his options when she knocked on his office door. Keeping up appearances in case anyone was watching, Severus flung open the door in his usual manner and bade her enter in his most menacing tone. When she passed him, her hand lightly brushing against the front of his robes, he nearly choked on his tongue. When she kept going through to his chambers he closed and warded the door, curious as to what she had planned, for she clearly had a plan and he still did not.

                Severus followed his nymph into his bedchamber, lifting an eyebrow when she stopped at the foot of his bed and looked pointedly at the floor in front of her feet. So that was how she wanted to play it. He could be obliging. He wouldn’t let her come, but he could play whatever game she wanted to play. He dropped to his knees, “Mistress” rumbling out of his chest as he gave in to his curiosity and let her make the decision of how this was going to go.

                He heard the rustling of fabric and saw her robes drop to the floor, her uniform quickly following, piling up under his face. Her pink toenails left his line of sight and he heard the distinct sound of his wardrobe opening and the swish of cloth before the toes returned, the hem of another pair of pajama pants gifted to him from Albus covering the tops of her feet. These were grey with little green and black snakes adorning them in a diamond pattern. He liked the idea of her shrouded in his house colors.

                “Rise,” Hermione commanded him and he did, eyes lingering on the bit of skin exposed between the misbuttoned edges of one of his shirts. “Come to the bed, Severus.”

                He followed her, because of course he did, and within a blink he was divested of his shoes and robes and they were curled up in the center of the bed, her head on his chest and her arms wrapped around him. And so they spent the next few hours, snuggled together and talking about everything and nothing. He could admit that he had missed this the past week. He had enjoyed dominating her, using her as he would have any other witch in which he had such a relationship. But he had missed simply talking to her, being with her, breathing in the scent of her hair and trailing his fingers down her back without any expectations or pretenses. This wasn’t a game he was playing, a scene he was setting. This was just Severus and Hermione.

                Of course, it couldn’t last. She was in “detention” and would have to leave his “office” soon. So long before he was ready for it, she slid from the bed. He watched in amusement as she simply transfigured his pajamas into a school uniform, cast cleansing charms on the uniform lying on his floor and then sent them to hang in his wardrobe. At this rate he wouldn’t have any sleepwear left, not that he actually ever wore any of it. He refused to think about her school girl uniform hanging next to his teaching robes.

                “This way I’ll have a spare uniform here, just in case,” she explained as she pulled on her robe and shoes. “Hadn’t you better escort me to the door?”

                “I find myself rather reluctant to rise,” Severus admitted. He had been tense all afternoon waiting for someone to ask him about Miss Granger’s familiarity and now that he had been able to relax, he felt too languid to move. “I’ll cast a _sonorous_ from here.”

                Hermione bade him goodnight with a kiss on the end of his nose and dashed out of his rooms, his amplified voice hissing at her to remember her place in future or next time she’ll be doing something much harder than dissecting flobberworms. He did eventually get out of bed in order to bathe and get right back in it again, plans for the following evening sending him peacefully to sleep while unbeknownst to him Hermione also drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Friday in her head and the warmth of her newly acquired pajamas wrapped around her.

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                Friday was chaos, absolute chaos. The students were too excited about the ball to even pretend to pay attention and even the strictest of teachers was having a hard time maintaining control of their classrooms. Some teachers took a practical approach. Flitwick focused his lesson on charms to temporarily change the color of everything from clothing to hair, which the students could use for their costumes. Sprout walked them through the various plants that were being used to decorate the Great Hall for the occasion. Even McGonagall taught the students how to transfigure their clothing completely, which some students were very grateful for as purchasing costumes was out of the question. Perhaps she had learned after Ron’s unfortunate appearance at the Yule Ball.

                Severus was in no mood to pander to the masses. He could have taught them any number of useful brews for hangover relief, sober-up, anti-nausea…contraceptive. He could have taught them some fun potions like babbling beverage to add to the merriment of the evening. Instead, he gave them all a rather difficult brew that required their utmost concentration at the risk of disfigurement, which nobody wanted to risk the night before the ball. It kept his class quiet and occupied and his head free from the migraine he surely would have had otherwise.

                Seeing Hermione in his classroom was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because he took the opportunity to punish her in a way that would not ruin their evening but clearly got his message across. It was a curse because he enjoyed her punishment a bit too much and it made it almost impossible for him to fully concentrate on the class that was currently brewing a very volatile potion. He was damned lucky this was a N.E.W.T. class and they were fairly proficient at not blowing themselves up.

                “Miss Granger,” he greeted as she entered the room with a clutch of other students practically bouncing out of their shoes in barely restrained exuberance.

                “Professor?” she responded, head dipped as if still wary of the wrath of the dungeon bat.

                “No, Miss Granger,” Severus drawled, his tone silky and sinister and hinting at trouble just enough to get the attention of the entire class, naturally. “Today you will refer to me as ‘Master’ in true deference to my title. Perhaps then you won’t forget…your…place…again.”

He really did know how to expertly wield a dramatic pause for maximum effect. He did not miss her indrawn breath even with the collective gasp of the class. He certainly didn’t miss the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her trembling lower lip before her eyes darted to his, her pupils blown wide open. Her pulse throbbed at her neck and he wanted to lick her there, to bite her there, right over the mark only she and he knew was hiding beneath her expertly applied glamour.

“Do I make myself…clear…Miss Granger?” he asked when she still had not responded.

“Yes, Pro-…M-m-master,” she replied, her response barely audible even in the unnaturally silent room.              

“I’m afraid I did not hear you, Miss Granger,” Severus purred. “Was I clear?”

“Yes, Master,” the witch answered, her voice shaky but loud enough to be heard.

Some of his Slytherins snickered at the Gryffindor Princess being so quickly brought down to size. Some of the Gryffindors looked murderous at this humiliating display. Severus just thanked Merlin for the voluminous robes hiding the erection that had sprung to life as ‘Master’ had tumbled from her full lips. He didn’t trust himself to move just yet without considerable discomfort and so settled for raising one eyebrow and gesturing to her seat with the tilt of his head, summarily dismissing her. Of course, he was standing dead center in the aisle and so she would have to go around him, both routes narrow enough that she would inevitably touch him as she slid by and that definitely didn’t help the situation.

He took a deep breath and whirled around, hoping the dramatic billow of his robes as he stalked back to the head of the room and the safety of his desk would distract anyone from noticing the very noticeable bulge in his pants. He was already very much regretting his decision. Severus Snape was no quitter however and so he spent the class period using every opportunity available to him to address Hermione and enforce his punishment on her. If she raised her hand to ask or answer a question he made sure she ended every single sentence with ‘Master’. If she didn’t raise her hand, hoping to avoid his attention, he made an example of her, hovering behind her and questioning her on everything from the timing of her stirs to the color of her potion to the way she sliced her ingredients.

By the end of the class period he wanted nothing more than to dismiss the lot of them, bend her over the nearest table and fuck her until they both came, screaming one another’s names into the empty air of the room. He restrained himself, however and settled for one more dig, asking her if she felt she had adequately learned her lesson and smirking as she stuttered out one more ‘yes, Master’ before darting from the room.

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                Hermione wasn’t sure how she made it through dinner but she muddle through it, making an excuse about having a headache from the day’s commotion to head to her room early. She cleaned herself up, righting her hair, shaving her legs, and mopping up the veritable fountain of arousal at her core. If she had had to spend on minute longer in class with Severus she was pretty sure she was going to hop onto his desk, spread her thighs and beg him to fuck her right then and there and damn the audience.

                She was just getting ready to call for Tibby to take her down to her Master’s office when the elf appeared with a letter. She snatched it out of his little hands and tore it open, greedy to see what he had in store for her. There was only one word scrawled on the page but that one word was enough to have her clenching her thighs together. He was a bad, bad man.

                “To the library, if you please,” she said as she extended her hand to the elf.

                A _pop_ later and she was standing alone in the middle of the library, not a soul in sight. The library was closed, locked, and warded until Monday, according to the announcement made at dinner that evening. Apparently Madame Pince refused to allow anyone in since the ball had them all acting a fool and bothering her for books on how to turn oneself into all manner of creature or how to charm tails, hooves and the like onto themselves. She had had enough and was taking the weekend off.

                Hermione started to wander the many aisles, looking for Severus down each as she passed and growing more anxious and excited with each passing moment. She was just coming up on the restricted section when a strong arm wrapped around her from behind and lifted her in the air, dragging her backwards down an aisle before turning her and shoving her against a shelf.

                “I’m sorry but I can’t wait,” Severus groaned against her mouth before biting her lip and tugging it open so he could thrust his tongue deeply inside.

                They kissed each other like they would never get the opportunity to do so again, like this was the first kiss and the last kiss all rolled into one. Like they were starving for each other. Hermione buried her hands in his inky locks and lifted herself so she could wrap her legs around his slim hips. Severus used some fancy charm work to affix some books into a sort of seat for her, resting her bottom on one and draping her thighs over a few others before tearing at her clothes, releasing his cock, and plunging into her to the hilt.

                He dropped a thumb to her clit and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed while he thrust and thrust and thrust. She felt her body tightening, reaching the peak and hovering there, having grown accustomed to being pulled back from the edge at the last moment. She whimpered as she strived for completion without actually reaching it. Severus must have understood her predicament because he doubled his efforts with his prick and his fingers, muttered a quick charm before dipping two fingers into her ass and growled at her to come before sinking his teeth into the sensitive tendon along the side of her neck.

Hermione toppled over the precipice with a wordless shout, an animalistic wail that would’ve woken the dead had they not already been awake and wandering the halls of Hogwarts. Severus sank his teeth deeper and emptied himself inside her, their combined juices making a squicking sound that would’ve been embarrassing if they weren’t too high on pleasure-induced endorphins to even notice it.

Her whole body shook with aftershocks of what was definitely the most intense orgasm of her life and she could feel Severus trembling between her thighs, a sign that he was similarly affected. After a few moments of gasping breaths and twitching limbs, however, he stood back from her and carefully lifted her off her makeshift seat. The books had been charmed impervious so there were no stains to be explained away, thank Merlin.

Severus finished undressing the both of them and Hermione couldn’t help but get aroused anew at the idea of being naked and doing naked things with an equally naked Severus in the middle of the school library. It was a literal fantasy come true. Severus took her hand and guided her silently to the restricted section where he made her scream again with his mouth and his fingers and his cock. Before the night was through he had pressed her against one of the tall windows, charmed for privacy of course, and taken her from behind while commanding her to look down at the school grounds, watch her classmates interacting until curfew and Filch forced them indoors.

He didn’t stop there, either. He enlarged the librarian’s desk and lay back on it, bringing Hermione up and over his face so he could ravish her pussy while she sucked his cock. He even let her lead him to her favorite study table and push him down into a chair, slicking her back channel with a handy spell and riding him in reverse while she tugged and rolled her nipples and he finger-fucked her quim.

All said she had no complaints and when he asked the castle for a direct route to his chambers, she was too exhausted and blissed out to pay it much mind or give any thought as to why the castle complied. She was just happy to be able to sit in a warm bath with her lover, dress in yet another of his shirts, and curl into his side to sleep the sleep of the carefree.


	23. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Halloween Ball has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling very motivated today so here is the next chapter! Actually, I'm on summer break and actually had time to write today!

Chapter 23: Halloween

                It was warmth and wetness that brought Severus out of his sleep. Specifically, warmth and wetness wrapped around the head of his painfully swollen cock. A suspicious lump under the blankets was bobbing ever so slowly up and down right above his hips. Rather than question his good luck, Severus simply flung back the blankets so he could watch his cock disappear into Hermione’s pretty mouth. Staring into her twinkling eyes as she took him deeper down her throat, hollowed her cheeks, and hummed was just the icing on top of the cake.

                When she repositioned herself so that she could grind her quim down onto his face in a position she discovered the previous evening she very much enjoyed, well, he wasn’t going to complain about that either. He simply shoved three fingers into her slick heat, pressed his thumb firmly against her clit, and buried his tongue in her puckered hole. Her rhythm became sloppier the closer she got to orgasm but that was fine with him. Her moaning around his dick was going to bring him over the edge regardless of her finesse or lack thereof.

                Her muscles tightened and fluttered around his fingers and he pulled them free of her dripping pussy, stabbing his tongue into her to catch every last drop of her pleasure down his throat. He slurped her up like a child with a melting popsicle, chasing each drop around her folds until her tremors ceased and then licking her once more for good measure. She moaned once more and, as predicted, he lost it, shooting his spend into her mouth.

                Unfortunately, she was a bit too dazed from her own climax to be ready for it and she choked as it hit the back of her throat. Severus instantly pulled out of her mouth, his pleasure aborted abruptly at the sound of her discomfort, and in a move he couldn’t even describe if he wanted to he had her sitting up while he rubbed her back soothingly until her coughing ceased. She faced him, red and sweaty with a bit of his seed hanging from the corner of her mouth and he didn’t mean to do it but he really couldn’t help it.

                Severus laughed, guffawed, really, as his witch glared at him for the indignity of it all. He was curled up in the center of the bed, out of breath and still unable to stop chuckling when she apparently regained her composure enough to start pummeling him with the many pillows strewn about the room. Severus Snape could honestly say that he had never had a pillow fight before. For his first time, it was certainly memorable and quite enjoyable. By the end of it he found himself buried balls deep in his witch, her hands tied to his headboard to keep her from hitting him with another pillow and his hips keeping up a slow, steady, gentle rhythm to atone for his earlier sin. Though whether he was atoning for coming in her mouth without warning or for laughing at her, he was never quite sure. This time, when he was on the edge, he announced quite clearly that he was going to come inside her. Of course, as soon as he released her hands she summarily smacked him upside the back of the head, not appreciating his humor.

                They made quick work of a shower, both needing to be seen at breakfast to allay any suspicion. Hermione especially needed to make an excited appearance the morning before the ball to make final plans for hair and make-up and whatnot with her girlfriends. It was tradition, after all. Severus was needed in the staff room after the meal to finalize preparations for the big to-do and chaperoning duties. He was only too glad to be assigned to ensuring none of the food or drink was tampered with as it meant he didn’t actually have to interact with any of the students. Much.

                Staff were encouraged to dress up as well, and didn’t that cause quite a few people to turn and look at him, as if he could be persuaded to find some sort of jovial spirit if enough of them sent encouraging looks his way.

                _Idiots, the lot of them. If I didn’t crumble under Voldemort’s intimidation tactics, I’m certainly not going to concede to a few pleading looks._

                The meeting devolved from there, with each person in attendance only too happy to blather on about their chosen costumes and what they were contributing to the atmosphere of the hall. Severus was only too glad to be rid of them all and made haste to exit the room and return to his lab where he was brewing headache relief, anti-nausea potions, and contraceptives for embarrassed students to beg off of Madame Pomfrey in the morning. He knew teenagers and though most of them were too dim to associate the potions from the hospital wing with their resident potion’s master, he knew his efforts were going to be very much appreciated by student and staff member alike.

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                Hermione was keeping her costume close to the vest, as it were. She had agreed to let Ginny and Luna help her get ready in terms of hair and make-up, giving them a vague color palette to work with and an idea of what she wanted her hair to look like, but refused to tell them even so much as a hint of what her costume was. She spent her morning soaking in an herb-and-flower-infused bath, softening her skin and imbedding the myriad scents deep into her skin. She ensured that every inch of her was smooth and silky, even going so far as to dab a drop or two of hair regrowth potion over her mons so that she was soon back to her natural bush as Severus preferred instead of the stubbled mess she had been sporting while it regrew naturally. She trimmed that neat and tight, however, refusing to look like something out of a 70’s porno.

                She rubbed moisturizer into her skin and spent a ridiculous amount of time slicking product through each individual curl on her head, so that they were soft and smooth, distinct curls haloing her head rather than a frizzy mess. A quick charm groomed her eyebrows for her. She took lunch in her room, lounging around in nothing but a silky robe, trying to get into the right mindset for her costume. At half three her friends arrived, arms laden down with their own costumes and various beauty products that Hermione had never even heard of.

                They _oohed_ and _aahed_ over her hair and Ginny begged Hermione to teach her the eyebrow charm before they all got down to the serious business of preparing for a costume ball. Hermione watched in awe as Ginny used her wand to curl her hair into loose waves, Celtic braids sprouting from her temples and ending in bright beads just below her shoulders. She placed a circlet of hammered bronze upon her head, a blue bead hanging from its center down between her eyebrows. Her make-up was understated so as not to detract from the bright blue stripes along her cheekbones. She was a warrior woman, Boudicca come to life. She had shortened the hem of her costume considerably and added sandals with straps that criss-crossed up to her knees. While not historically accurate, she looked amazing.

                Luna straightened her hair and teased it up on top of her head, slicking it back away from her ears, which she had magically altered to resemble those of a horse, and giving herself a sort of mane down the center of her back. She affixed a sparkling horn to the center of her forehead and wore all white from head to toe, though she had charmed the tips of her shoes to appear silver, like the hooves of a unicorn. She dusted silver glitter through her hair and across her cheeks and charmed her long eyelashes to match. Hermione was just thankful the younger girl hadn’t tried to transfigure her face to resemble a horse’s muzzle.

                Once the other two were done they turned as a unit to face Hermione. She felt a bit like a bludger might, if a bludger was sentient, right before a beater hauled off and whacked it off course. Though the two girls looked wonderful, she was really worried they wouldn’t be able to make her look wonderful in turn, since they didn’t know what her costume was meant to be. She took a deep breath, trusted her instincts, and put herself in the capable hands of her closest female friends.

                When they were done with her, she barely recognized herself. Her wild curls, charmed to dance around her head as if constantly blown about by a gentle breeze, were capped with a crown of twigs and leaves in the reds and yellows of fall and blossoms ranging from the palest yellow to the brightest orange to the deepest blood red magically bloomed and closed only to bloom again in an ever-changing pattern so you never knew which one was going to open next. Her hazel eyes appeared greener as they picked up the green in the ivy painted around her eyes and across her cheekbones, a monarch butterfly flapping its wings along her right temple. Her eyelids were dusted with gold and lined and her lashes darkened to give her a doe-like appearance. Her lips were the same deep red as the darkest blossom in her crown and charmed so that the lipstick wouldn’t rub off or flake or crease.

                Ginny and Luna stopped caring what the rest of her costume looked like because surely her face and hair were going to be the talk of the night. Ginny was practically bouncing in her seat to show off her handiwork on Hermione’s face and Luna was humble yet proud of the work she did on Hermione’s hair. Together they had definitely made Hermione’s vision a reality.

                “Oh, ‘Mione, nobody is going to be able to talk about anything else tonight. They’re all going to be staring at you! I mean, they already stare at you but now it’ll be because you’re gorgeous and not because you’re famous…not that you aren’t always gorgeous but…oh, you know what I mean!” Ginny gushed.

                “Yes, I do believe he will be left quite speechless tonight,” Luna offered in her sing-song voice.

                Hermione’s eyes darted to Ginny’s in accusation but relaxed when she saw that Ginny looked just as spooked as Hermione was feeling.

                “Who are you talking about, Luna? Do I have a secret admirer I didn’t know about?” Hermione asked calmly.

                “Well, if he was a secret admirer, it would stand to reason you wouldn’t know about him, or else he wouldn’t be much of a secret, would he?” Luna answered, completely missing the point, as usual.

                “Of course not,” Hermione agreed. “I just meant…that is to say…do you know someone who fancies me?”

                _Please say yes. Please say a name, anyone’s name, as long as it isn’t…_

                “Professor Snape, of course, though I’m sure that isn’t the name you call him. I’ve been meaning to ask if he has a preference for pet names or perhaps a nickname. I doubt he wants to be reminded that he is your teacher when you’re together so you must call him something else.”

                Luna stood there blinking owlishly at Hermione while inside Hermione’s thoughts and emotions were running around in a panic, like someone had just yelled ‘fire’ in a crowded theater. She took a few calming breaths and cleared her face of any emotion other than curiosity.

                “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Luna. Professor Snape is…”

                “Your lover, I know. That’s why I thought you’d be able to tell me if he has a nickname or not. I admit I’m quite curious. I’ve been wondering for weeks now.”

                Hermione didn’t know how Luna could be standing there so calmly while accusing a professor of having an inappropriate sexual relationship with a student barely half his age. But stand there she did, twirling a strand of platinum hair between her fingers and tapping her silver-tipped foot impatiently on the floor. Hermione didn’t sense any disgust or censure from the girl and if her words were to be believed, she had at least suspected about them since nearly the outset. Hermione took a chance. She would explain and apologize to Severus later.

                “Severus,” she responded succinctly. “I call him ‘Severus’ mostly.”

                “That’s nice. Have you tried any pet names? Maybe throw in a ‘darling’ and see how he takes it. I don’t think anyone has called him ‘darling’ in a very long time. Does he call you ‘Hermione’?”

                “No,” Hermione answered, drawing that single syllable out a few beats. Luna stared at her expectantly. Meanwhile Ginny was in the background, mouth agape and staring between the two of them like she was watching a tennis match. “He calls me, umm…well, sometimes he calls me ‘pet’ and sometimes…well, you see my costume tonight is…”

                “I doubt he calls you ‘pixie’ or ‘fairy’ or ‘butterfly’ or ‘blossom’, though that one is just precious. Don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out. I’m good at riddles,” Luna insisted, clapping her hands excitedly.

                Ginny must have finally snapped out of her shocked stupor at the mention of costumes because she squeaked and cast a tempus, squeaking again when she read the time. “Hermione, get changed. We’re going to be late! I promised we’d meet the boys at the bottom of the stairs at 6 and its quarter ‘til now!”

                Hermione smiled and stood. “Relax, Gin, this’ll take but a moment,” she reassured the fiery redhead before running her wand down her bathrobe.

                The two younger witches watched in awe as the robe transfigured, lightening to a pale cream and gathering a bit below Hermione’s breasts before falling in layered swaths of gossamer fabric down to the floor. The sleeves of the robe pulled back, meeting over one shoulder in a sort of twisted rope before falling away behind her, the magical breeze blowing the loose strands of cloth here and there. As the breeze blew, the individual lengths of fabric flowed around and between Hermione’s bare legs, revealing skin all the way up to her hip, before hiding it away again, making any who viewed this bit of magic wonder if they had seen any skin at all. It was sexy as hell though clearly charmed to keep her modesty intact as nothing but leg was ever displayed. The fabric was quite sheer and there were all sorts of interesting and provocative shadows underneath that hinted but never revealed what only Hermione knew, that she was bare under those silky strands of cloth.

                A swish later and the ivy on her face duplicated down her arms and legs, painted blooms and butterflies opening and flitting around her skin. A few cushioning and impervious charms later and her bare feet were protected from the elements, the stone floor, and possibly the soles of her future dance partners’ shoes. She was a forest nymph come to life, his nymph in more than just name now.

                “Holy shit, Hermione, he’s going to lose it when he sees you,” Ginny gushed. “Literally lose it. A galleon says he carries you out of the room in less than 5 minutes.”

                “Two galleons says he waits until no one is looking and drags her to the nearest empty classroom, which seems a bit more in character for him,” Luna countered.

                “Three galleons says he’s so dumbstruck by her that he makes up an excuse to punish her just so he can get her alone,” Ginny argued.

                “Four galleons says we’re going to be late if we don’t leave right now,” Hermione cut in, shaking her head at her friends’ antics and laughing when the redhead squealed and ran towards the door.

                They weren’t late, much. Harry looked very dashing in his kilt and blue body paint, willing to expose himself to ridicule for the love of his life if that was what made her happy. He spun his warrior princess around in a circle before planting a sloppy kiss on her lips, leaving behind blue smudges on her face that Hermione was kind enough to charm off for her. Neville had decided to dress as a thestral, the opposite of Luna’s unicorn, and Hermione complimented him on how truly haunting he looked. He stammered out a ‘thanks’ while trying hard not to stare at the large expanse of bare skin on display before her dress shifted again.

                Ron was dressed as a knight, which did not surprise Hermione one bit. Both of her boys seemed taken aback by her costume, once they regained the power of speech, that is. Harry turned bright red and mumbled in her ear that he didn’t like thinking of his sister in all but blood as being a girl, a girl-girl with girl parts, and that he loved her but to please give him some warning next time she decided to dress to kill. And of course that she just had to tell him who the show was for as he seriously doubted she had dressed that way for Ron.

                Ron stammered out a compliment that she could barely decipher before giving her a brief hug, muttering that he had missed her, and turning to look at anything but the hint of nipples he swore he had spotted under her dress as the flickering light of a nearby sconce hit her at just such an angle. It never actually occurred to him to wonder why she was dressed in such a way, or for whom. Greetings complete, the group of friends entered the Great Hall, marveling at the splendor of the room and mostly oblivious to the stares of everybody else in the room.

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                Severus had to admit that they had really outdone themselves with this ball. The Yule Ball had been cold and colorless in deference to the season and had really sparkled and shined, like diamonds. But the staff had all pitched in to create a midnight garden of Eden for the festivities and it truly was beautiful. The ceiling reflected thousands of stars and the nearly full moon and that combined with glittering fairy lights were the only sources of illumination in the room, casting the room in a silvery glow and throwing odd shadows onto the walls. Tall pub tables were scattered throughout so that no more than 4 students could gather in one spot, the tables meant for those who were eating and not meant to encourage socializing.

That was reserved for the many outcroppings of boulders, tiny koi ponds and even waterfalls dotting the hall, none of which were designed in such a way as to afford privacy and tempt students to act inappropriately, but all designed to catch and reflect the natural light to further illuminate the space. Everywhere you looked there were these little nooks and niches to gather in with mosses and flowers, all blooming in the moonlight, and soft patches of earth, charmed to remain on the ground and not to stick to clothing, of course. There was even a tall tree where the head table normally sat, swings hanging from its branches by vines of ivy. The dance floor in the center of the room was designed to look like a field of wildflowers, with the moonlight a perfect spotlight catching the drops of dew and bouncing back like a disco ball had been affixed to the floor.

_And doesn’t that just bring up some very pleasant memories that you should not be reliving in the middle of the great hall surrounded by children?_

                Instead of a feast, finger foods and treats were passed around the room on floating trays, elves using their magic from behind the scenes as usual, though having a bit more fun with it than the normal popping it onto tables as they had to duck and dodge and weave around students milling to and fro. Severus’s job was to ensure each tray and its contents was impervious to tampering before it joined the mass of miscreants sure to try and spike the swaying bowls of punch or sprinkle a bit of nonsense inducing powder or whatnot onto the cakes and quiches. Merlin forbid.

                He was just casting the necessary precautions on a tray of miniature meat pies when he spotted her. He was almost certain that his heart skipped a beat, literally stopped beating in his chest, before it resumed at twice its normal rate. He couldn’t breathe and simply stood, drinking her in until the tray started to vibrate with impatience in front of him. He cleared his throat, cast the spell, and sent it on its way before glancing up again but she had already passed by and he had lost her in the crowd that had come to greet the Chosen One and his freckled sidekick.

                She had dressed as a nymph, his nymph, and there was no doubt she had done so for him. He wanted to lay her bare right there in the middle of the great hall and take her, claim her in front of everyone so there was no doubt to whom she belonged. He wanted to suckle at her breast through the thin material of her dress, feel it wrap around his bare legs and pull him into her, see where exactly those damned butterflies disappeared to when they flew off under the nearly sheer fabric. Would he feel them flutter their wings against his cock while he sunk into her?

                He put all of his skills in occlumency and spying to the test to watch her through the night, to watch that dress as it drove him and most of the male attendants to utter madness as it hinted and teased, flashing a calf here, the inside of her thigh there, and even the jut of her hipbone, showing clearly to anyone intelligent enough to make the intuitive leap that she couldn’t possibly be wearing anything underneath. He wanted to gouge out the eyes of his students who dared to let their eyes linger on what was his.

                When she stepped onto the dance floor, the moonlight hitting her just so, revealing shadows at the curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, and the secret place between her thighs, he physically restrained himself from stalking through the hall until he could throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to the privacy of his chambers, away from the lust-filled eyes of boys much closer her age and much more appropriate and socially acceptable as her paramours. He wanted to fuck his possession into her, stamping ‘dibs’ all over her body until each beat of her throbbing flesh rebranded his name on her. He wanted to worship her skin, chase those butterflies around her flesh and tease each flower bud with his tongue until they bloomed for him, like her core always bloomed for him, sending the perfume of her want, her desire into the air and calling to him like a bee to nectar.

                He wanted to love her, make love to her in a room lit with a hundred candles, with kisses as light as butterfly wings and soft and slow thrusts that would coax her to a sweet climax, his name a whisper on her lips. He wanted to dribble candle wax across her breasts, down her stomach and inside her thighs; reminiscent of the seed he so enjoyed marking her with. He wanted to use that dress to tie her to his bed and pleasure her until she begged him for mercy, until she forgot everything but him and her and them. He vowed that she would not leave his bed until classes resumed on Monday and damn anyone who tried to interrupt, disrupt, or stop him.

                But first, he had to get through this gods be damned ball.

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                Hermione was aware of Severus from the moment she first stepped into the room and felt his eyes on her. She was aware of him watching her as she nibbled on sandwiches and the like while Ginny dragged Harry to the dance floor and Ron stood very awkwardly next to her, refusing to look at her for long. She was very aware of him as she stepped onto the dance floor herself, trying very hard not to flash back to Wednesday evening and moan embarrassingly loudly. It was bad enough that she had to clench her thighs together to keep her arousal from running down her legs. She swayed to the music, trusting her spellwork to keep her dress in place and tuned out everything and everyone but the music and his eyes on her.

                She could practically _feel_ his regard, as if his hands were trailing over her skin, his lips, his tongue. Her dress swished between her legs, the silky smooth fabric brushing against her bare quim, teasing her as the feel of his eyes on her were teasing her. She danced for him, body swaying and hips twisting, hands buried in her writhing hair and dress whipping around her bare thighs. She barely registered the stares of those around her, some jealous, some contemptuous, some full of envy or lust or admiration. They didn’t exist to her. The only stare that mattered came from a pair of onyx eyes burning from across the room.

                Hands grabbed at her waist and she started, eyes alighting on the freckled face of Ron Weasley. He was flushed from dancing and the heat from the press of bodies on the dance floor. She grinned at him as the beat picked up and their dancing became too quick for him to keep hold of her. She thought nothing of dancing with one of her best friends, despite their rocky past and when the song ended she gladly took his offered arm and walked off the floor with him, laughing and smiling up at her friend. She didn’t linger long with him, however, excusing herself to step out of the beautifully decorated room and cool off in the open air of the entry hall.

                Familiar hands grabbed her and dragged her back down the darkened hallway until they were out of sight of anybody else looking for fresh air. Unfortunately, they weren’t the hands she was expecting.

                “Ron? What are you-“ Hermione started, his slightly chapped lips cutting her off midsentence.


	24. Want: Have a Desire to Possess or Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna is Luna but with Snape. Ron gets put in his place. Severus shows Hermione how much he wants her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in posting and for not getting back to comments. I have been in D.C. and just didn't have the time. I promise to do better now that I am home.

Chapter 24: Want: Have a Desire to Possess or Do

                “Professor Snape?”

                Severus turned towards the dreamy voice that had called his name, using all of his considerable self-control to not smile outright. He had an image to maintain and if anybody knew that he found the estimable Miss Lovegood highly amusing and truly endearingly charming, well his reputation would take a nose dive.

                “Miss Lovegood,” he greeted, voice as flat and emotionless as he could manage. It was difficult when faced with a petite witch dressed as a unicorn, complete with silver glitter everywhere and a mane, of all things.

                “Hermione stepped out into the hall,” came her reply. And then…silence while she blinked impossibly blue eyes at him.

                “And?” he drawled, the epitome of nonchalance, eyebrow arched.

                “Well, I just thought it might be difficult to watch her if she wasn’t in the hall any longer. Would you like me to go and fetch her?” Lovegood’s head tilted to the side, like a curious puppy’s.

                “I am in charge of watching the food and drink, Miss Lovegood. She is a grown witch and free to go when and where she pleases. If she causes trouble or finds it somewhere, there are other professors in charge of seeing to that.” Severus deliberately misunderstood what the fair-haired witch was saying.

                “Well, yes, I suppose there would be. But she probably isn’t looking for trouble. I would think she would much rather find you, sir,” the girl responded, head now tilted the opposite direction.

                Severus forced himself to stay calm. Surely she wasn’t suggesting… “Miss Lovegood, if you have a point, please come to it. It is getting late and I am far too old and tired for these word games.”

                “I believe there are a number of potions you could take to increase your stamina, Professor. For Hermione’s benefit, if not your own.”

                _She did not just insinuate…_

                “Miss Lovegood, the point. Now.”

                “Well, seeing as you two are in a relationship, and you’ve been staring at her all night, I thought it might interest you to know that she left the hall, followed by Ron Weasley, and that you might want to follow after her and rescue her from his attention. I would suggest reasserting your claim, but since you seem to be having virility issues, I can always go and rescue her and give you time to brew one of those potions I mentioned. Though I find it curious that you hadn’t heard of them before, being a potions master, after all.”

                Severus was gobsmacked. He was, honest to God, at a complete loss for words. This tiny slip of a girl _knew_ in the way that she always seemed to _know_ and he was terrified of what that meant. And offended that she thought he had _issues_ of a personal nature. And confused as to why it seemed she was giving him relationship advice when she should have been reporting his actions to the headmistress. He was, after all, having sexual relations with a student, regardless of her being of age.

                “Miss Lovegood, I am not sure what you think you…”

                “I’ve known for weeks, you know. I confirmed with Hermione this afternoon. I advised her to give you a pet name. I would appreciate it if you would let me know which one she chose and how you like it. But for now, I think you ought to go find her. She did put so much effort into her costume for you and I’m sure she would like for you to show her your appreciation.”

                And with that, the odd and entirely too perceptive girl cantered away. Severus stood for a moment, watching as she made her way back to Longbottom, Miss Weasley, and Potter and waited, heart pounding, to see if she said anything to them. Of course, the first two already knew but he was sure if Weasley and Potter knew what he was doing on a fairly regular basis to their best friend, they would have attempted to hex him by now. Still, he let out a very relieved breath when none of the others even batted an eye in his direction.

                Casting the appropriate spells on the last platter to leave the kitchen, Severus spun on his heel, strode briskly towards the exit, mumbled something about damned teenagers and their loud music as he passed Madame Hooch on her way back from the loo, presumably, and made sure to billow quite dramatically as he flung open the doors and stepped into the hall. He needn’t have bothered, as the hall was empty. At least, he thought it was empty until he heard a muffled swishing from a darkened niche down the hallway.

                He had just turned toward the sound when he heard Hermione’s distinct voice gasp “Ron!”

                “Oh, ‘Mi, I knew as soon as I saw you in _that_. I mean, who dresses like that except to get attention and you definitely got my attention,” Ronald Weasley was saying breathlessly, his words accompanied by more swishing. “After that kiss during the battle, I knew…I mean, I needed to explore my options just to be sure, of course, but I just knew you wanted me, but this dress just proves it!”

                “Ronald, stop,” Hermione pleaded. “Wait, please, it’s not… _mmfph.”_

                More swishing but this time there was also grunting and groaning. Severus saw red. He had clearly heard her say to stop and he was down the hallway. There was no way the ginger menace hadn’t heard her, being in such close proximity. All Severus wanted to do was wrap his hands around the boy’s neck and squeeze until he felt that pulse speed up in panic and then inevitably slow and then stop completely. How dare Ronald Fucking Weasley touch what belonged to Severus. How dare he take without consent.

                He had just reached the darkened alcove when he heard a loud _smack_ followed by, “Oi, what the hell, Hermione?”

                “Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are one of my best friends but so help me if you lay one more hand on me I will hex your bollocks off!”

                Considering the situation well in hand, the red haze receding from his field of vision, Severus ducked back down the hall, out of sight but nearby in case things took a turn. And of course well within earshot.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Ron was staring at her in genuine confusion as he held a hand up to his stinging cheek. Hermione reminded herself that he was her friend and she had fancied him at one point and he was always a little slow on the uptake and she shouldn’t hex him.

                “But I thought…I mean, that dress was definitely meant for a man and who else would…” Ronald’s voice drifted off.

                “Who else would want me? Was that what you were going to say? Lovely, Ronald. Great to know that’s what you think of me.” Hermione was hurt that her _friend_ apparently thought she was so unattractive that nobody but him would ever want her. She was also very offended by the idea that if a woman dressed in the least bit revealing that she must be on the prowl.    

                “Well, it can’t surprise you. I mean, really, who has ever shown interest? You’re a bit of a nightmare, ‘Mione, a real shrew, and most people can’t get past your nagging and superior attitude to think of you as a girl,” Ron responded so matter-of-factly that she was tempted to smack him again. “Face it, I’m the best thing you’ve got going for you. You can’t tell me you didn’t wear that dress for me. You were jealous I was getting attention from other girls and thought this would be your chance. Well, it worked, so you can stop playing hard to get. I heard you have your own room so let me take you there.”

                Ron’s big hands settled once more on her waist as he attempted to pull her closer for another snog. Hermione used both of her hands to push against his chest, sending him stumbling a much needed step backwards.

                “Ronald, I wouldn’t take you to my room if my life depended on it. Not that it is any of your business, but I wore this dress for my…boyfriend…who is very interested in me. Now, I am going to leave and go to my room, alone, after you have once again ruined what was a lovely evening. I love you as one of my dearest friends, but I don’t really want to look at you right now.”

                “Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend? And he just, what, decided not to take you to the ball? Right, Hermione. You don’t have to lie to me. I know you’ve had a thing for me for years. C’mon, I’ve got loads of experience now. I’ll make your first time good,” Ron promised in what Hermione supposed was his sexiest tone, once again reaching for her but this time trying to snake his hand under the slit in her dress. Until she struck the back of his knuckled with her wand, that is.

                “First of all, Ronald, telling a girl you think has fancied you for some time that you’re the only one who could ever find her attractive and that you’ve been off shagging everything in a skirt while she’s been pining for you does not, in any way, help your case. Am I supposed to feel grateful that you went off sowing your wild oats and left me here to wither until you decided, ‘hell, why not shag Hermione, too’?”

                Hermione screamed in frustration when Ron simply looked at her as if she had lost her head. Of course that was what he thought and he couldn’t understand why she was so put out.

                “Second, I resent the thought that I would be sitting her, wasting my life waiting on you to want me because nobody else but you ever would. You would not be and will not be my first, Ronald Weasley, as that honor belongs to a man who was also my second, third, fourth, and probably even my fiftieth; I wasn’t exactly keeping count!”

                Ron’s eyes looked to be about to bug right out of his head. He was also turning very red in the face, either from anger or embarrassment. Probably both. Hermione didn’t really care. She was on a rant and in the mood to put this boy back in his place and remind him that she was Hermione Granger and not some dumb bint to sit around and wait for some man to lay claim to her.

                “Furthermore, I did wear this dress for a man that I am quite taken with, with the hopes that he would be ripping it off of me later so that he could shag me senseless. He is so very good at that, after all, and I can assure you that he definitely sees me as a woman and wants me very much. So you can take your pitiful offer and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine!”

                Hermione turned her back on her best friend, too angry with him to stay in his presence any longer, and stormed down the hall and towards the dungeon stairs, not thinking about how Ronald would interpret her actions or what conclusions he was likely to draw from her obvious destination. She wanted to curl up in Severus’s bed, wrap herself in his warmth and his scent, and forget the last 15 minutes had even happened. Merlin, why did every ball have to end with Ronald Weasley acting like a prick? She was too distraught to notice the dark shadow at the end of the hall shift as she walked past.

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                Severus watched his witch storm off in the direction of his chambers, darting a nervous glance around to see who else might have noticed before remembering that other than Weasley, the hall was empty. Speaking of. Severus turned his head the other direction and saw the ginger wizard leaning against the stone wall, fists clenched and face red as he, too, watched the witch walk away, his eyes widening as he realized her destination and what that could mean. When the boy started to follow, Severus stepped out of his hiding place and put himself firmly in the boy’s path.

                “Mr. Weasley, though you are a guest here, you are not a student and therefore do not have free run of the castle. I suggest you return to the ball and your friends,” he said firmly, yet relatively politely.

                He thought the boy would refuse by the way his eyes kept darting over Severus’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of Hermione but he finally shook his head and stomped sullenly back towards the Great Hall, disappearing through the doors. Once the burst of loud music and louder laughter subsided, Severus used his considerable senses to ensure he was still very much alone and unobserved before following in Hermione’s footsteps, expecting to find her in his chambers but not quite sure which direction she would take the evening.

                He was a bit flummoxed when he found her standing outside his office door. He cast a _revelio_ , glad to learn they were alone, before approaching her, noticing that she still had not released the charms on her hair and dress and that those damned butterflies were still flittering around her body.

                “Do you want me?” she asked, turning to face him as he came parallel to the door.

                “Always,” he responded before he could think better of it.

                “Show me. Make me feel it.”

                Severus wasn’t sure which direction she wanted him to go with that. Did she expect passionate embraces and frenzied fucking to prove that he wanted her? Did she want him to worship her body, taking his time at the altar of her body and paying his due deference with slow kisses and gentleness? Hell, why not both?

                Severus buried his right hand deep into her maddening hair and took a step forward, effectively backing his witch into the office door, before slanting his mouth across hers and demanding immediate entrance, tasting deeply of her warm mouth and swallowing her whimper. She tasted of punch and cake and Hermione. He licked along the ridges at the top of her mouth, twisted his tongue around hers and thrust in a parody of what his body was going to do to hers soon.

                When she started to roll her hips against his, he released her hair to grab her around her thighs and lift her against the door, holding her there with his hips and wrapping her legs around him. He spotted one of her butterflies peeking out from behind her hair and chased it with his mouth until it disappeared below her neckline. Giving the briefest of thoughts to the risk of fucking her in an open corridor, and deciding to chance it since the ball was at its peak and they weren’t likely to be disturbed, Severus released her thighs, letting her weight settle against him and the door, and tore open the top of her dress, releasing her bare breasts to the cool air of the dungeon and watching her nipples pucker in response. He resumed following the butterfly’s movements all across her chest until he could wrap his lips and teeth and tongue around one hardened bud, sucking, rolling, and tugging while his hand mimicked his actions on her other breast.

                His free hand returned to her thigh where he felt a tingle beneath his palm. Releasing her succulent tit so he could ascertain the source of the tingle, Severus grinned devilishly when he saw the tip of a butterfly wing poking out from between his fingers. It appeared the charmed insects could be captured. Remembering his musing from earlier in the evening, Severus dragged his hand towards the inside of Hermione’s thigh, corralling the butterfly and muttering a charm to stick it to her quim without immobilizing it completely. Roughing yanking the folds of her costume out of his way, he watched the butterfly flap its wings at irregular intervals.

                Hermione started to writhe whenever the tiny butterfly fluttered and Severus immediately set to locating more butterflies and gathering them at the juncture of her thighs, knowing their intermittent flutters would stimulate and frustrate the nymph in his arms. Severus leaned back to watch Hermione’s hips undulate, chasing the vibrations as if begging them to come back. The front of his pants was becoming quite wet as she grew more and more aroused until Severus couldn’t take it anymore. Swiftly he released his cock and buried it to the hilt, delighting at the instant tightening of her cunt around his dick and the wail that left his witch’s mouth. He remained still to see if his earlier musings had any merit, and moaned himself when he felt the delicate fluttering of the butterfly wings at the base of his cock.

                Pulling out slowly to feel them all along his shaft, he sank back in rough and deep and set a brutal pace, pounding Hermione into the door and wrapping one around her back to help pull her harder down onto his waiting dick. He did his best to wrap his mouth around her pert little breast once more, grabbing the other roughly in his palm and relishing the sounds coming from the beguiling witch in his arms. He could tell she was getting frustrated as the vibrations either increased her pleasure when they coincided with one of his thrusts, or distracted her from it when they didn’t. Her head thrashed from side to side and she started begging, “please, please, please” repeating like a mantra.

                Taking pity and really wanting to come soon himself, Severus released her breasts with a wet plot, lowered his hand to her pussy, and mumbled a _vibrato_ and an _engorgio_ , at once enlarging her clit to receive more stimulation and sending the butterfly wings into a flurry of fast flutters, just enough to… Severus swallowed her scream and bit back one of his own as she came hard around his cock. He cast a _finite_ and rode her through it until his balls tightened and he shot his seed deep inside the now limp witch. Once he regained his breath he carried her, like a sleepy child, through his chambers to his room, laying her in the middle of the bed.

                Severus stepped back, staring at the wrecked witch sprawled across his bed, hair still blowing in a nonexistent breeze, arms and legs akimbo, breasts bared to his gaze, as they should be. Impatiently he flicked the fabric of her dress aside so he could watch as his seed slipped out of her swollen, pink pussy, clit still engorged like a miniature penis and one remaining butterfly perched on her mons, directly above the top of her slit. He reached one hand forward, gathering his spunk on his fingertips and stuffing it back inside her still quivering quim. He didn’t know why he did it, but he felt like it was the right thing to do.

                Checking “passionate, furious fucking” off of his mental list, Severus got started on “worship and adoration”, vanishing their clothes and crawling to lie partially atop her on the bed. This time when he affixed his lips to hers, he delicately sipped at her mouth, teasing her tongue to come out and play and licking at her lips slowly. He ran his hands down her neck and shoulders, down her arms, until he could entwine his fingers with hers and bring her arms down straight at her sides. He repeated the rub down on her legs, lifting her knees until her feet were flat on the bed. A charm or two later and he had her wrists tied to her ankles and a bottle of massaging oil in his hands.

                “I want to fuck you, pet, in every way I can think of,” he assured her as he dribbled a bit of oil onto her chest and started to rub, ghosting over her clavicle and tickling the undersides of her breasts.

                 “I want you in my bed, on my desk, the floor, the couch, every flat surface imaginable.” More oil followed, spilled into the tiny cup of her belly button, overflowing down the peaks and valleys of her soft belly and her hips. His fingers dutifully followed.

                “I want to bind you, blind you, gag you, suspend you, shove all manner of things inside of you, lick you, suck you, and touch all of you.” A thin line of oil was trickled down each leg from knee to hipbone before he used those talented hands to rub it into the muscles of her thighs, dipping between and just barely brushing her wet center. She arched her back as much as she could to try and bring his touch closer to her core, once again aroused and empty and aching.

               “I want your mouth and your cunt and your pert little ass to belong to me and only me, mine for the taking whenever I wish.” Severus dipped his slick hands under her to caress the crease of her buttocks before palming each globe and squeezing. Hermione started to pant.

              “I want to spank you and flog you and clamp you and make you cum more times than even your keen mind can count.” Another trickle of oil down each shin and a drop for each foot and Severus turned his attentions to massaging her from knee to toes.

 _I want your kisses and baths together and lazy evenings in front of the fire and your body wrapped around mine when I wake in the mornings_ , he continued in his head, eyes bent to his task as he set his sights on massaging her arms up to her shoulders. When he reached her neck again he used his thumbs to tilt her chin up, lowering his mouth to her stubborn chin and placing wet kisses along her jaw until he reached her ear.

           “I want your moans and every whimper, those little kitten sounds you make and your gasps, and especially your screams as your whole body clenches and quivers and comes apart on my cock,” he drawled, his voice a velvety purr in her ear. He was close enough to feel her body tremble at his words and her hard little nipples brush his chest. _I want my name on your lips,_ he finished in the safety of his own mind.

          He traced his tongue along her cheekbone, placed a kiss on each eyelid as well as the tip of her nose, and fused his mouth to hers once more. Pulling away from her mouth after a few long moments, he began moving south. She wanted him to make her feel how much he wanted her, to show her, and Severus was going to make damn sure that she never questioned it again.


	25. Meanwhile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What everyone else was up to while Snape was teaching Hermione the definition of want.

Chapter 25: Meanwhile

Ron Weasley was not stupid. Sometimes he made rash decisions and he didn’t always think things through, but he wasn’t stupid. In fact, what he lacked in academic prowess he more than made up for in deductive reasoning and an innate ability to see multiple possible solutions and determine the most probable and likely to succeed. He was a strategist, which is what made him so good at chess. His latest move, admittedly, was not the best but he was working blind in a situation where he thought he had a complete picture.

Thinking back as he made his way back to his friends, Ron pulled up a mental image of Hermione over the years and the torch she carried for him even when he didn’t want to acknowledge it. They had kissed during the battle and he was fairly assured of her affections. He was picturing picket fences and a houseful of kids next door to Harry before her lips had fully left his. But then summer came and she was…sad and withdrawn all the time and he didn’t know how to help her. Needing to move on and not dwell on all that was lost, Ron saw nothing wrong with basking in the glow of an adoring public with his best mate at his side. And then the girls started hanging onto his every word and sending him letters and asking for autographs with their mouths and far different things with their eyes.

He figured Hermione would be waiting when she finally snapped out of her funk and he would head back to her with a bit of experience under his belt, pun not intended, and spend the rest of his life exactly how he had pictured it. When she started to perk up halfway through the summer he had patted himself on the back for making the obviously correct move. She was moving on, finally, without his hovering over her and trying to force her to be cheery as he had been doing when the summer had first started. She had just needed some space and time.

She hadn’t come running to him though and Ron chalked it up to her needing a bit more space and time to get back to herself so that she could fully come back to him. He didn’t doubt for a second that they would eventually end up together. He had gotten accepted into Auror training and Harry had, too, of course and then Hermione announced she was going back to school. Ron supported her, though he would rather she had taken the ministry position so they could get started on that picket fence situation right away. But Ron wanted his Hermione back and if school was where she needed to be, then he would wait. Emotionally. He still felt that it was for Hermione’s benefit if he took witches up on their offers and built up his repertoire of skills. He wanted her to be a happy wife, after all.

And school had been in session for months and Ginny had assured him in her letters that all was well and Hermione had floundered at first but was definitely happier and getting back to her old self. His sister had never mentioned a boyfriend or really any interested party and she certainly hadn’t told him that his future wife and the mother of his future children was slagging around with a Slytherin. As if the shock of her having lost her virginity wasn’t enough, or that she had apparently had more sex with that bloke than Ron had had with quite a few different women, knowing she was in an actual relationship with a Slytherin was enough to send him into an apoplectic fit.

And it had to be a Slytherin because why else would she have retreated to the dungeons after telling him she was going to go back to her room, alone? She had already written to him and told him she had her own room close to Gryffindor tower so it wasn’t that her room was located down there. Ron wasn’t stupid. He saw the connection. She must have a Slytherin beau that she was close enough with to subconsciously think that his room was her room. This meant that his sister had to know about it, because you couldn’t hide anything from Ginny. This meant his sister had lied to him, even if just by omission.

“Oi, Ron, have you seen ‘Mione?” Harry called from the dance floor where he was making a complete fool of himself, huge grin plastered across his sweaty, blue face.

Ron stepped onto the dance floor, grabbed Ginny by the arm and started to drag her away, Harry following behind instead of trying to stop him. Probably because his friend looked at once livid and devastated, like his whole world had just collapsed on him and Ginny’s face looked resigned, as if she knew the source of the destruction. They finally stopped in an unoccupied niche far from the dance floor, closer to the exit and more lit up which accounted for its lack of teenagers trying to cop a feel or snog.

“Who was it?” Ron asked his sister, knowing by the look on her face that she would understand exactly what he was asking.

“You’re blind if you can’t figure it out, Ron,” Ginny responded, adding on when his face turned particularly murderous, “It was over the summer.”

“Who was what? What was over the summer? I actually am practically blind so if we could fill me in, that would be great!” Harry chimed in.

“Hermione took a lover and Ron is upset and thinks he has a right to know who it was,” Luna offered, having appeared atop one of the boulders like an actual unicorn, completely out of the blue but somehow fitting, as if she belonged there and everyone else was encroaching on her territory.

“Oh, thanks Luna,” Harry responded, always appreciative of her blunt answers. He didn’t want to think about Hermione having sex but when he forced himself to for a moment it became quite obvious, even to him, who her partner must have been. “Oh!” he said when he figured it out, shocked but not really surprised, if that made sense.

“Oh?” Ron asked, turning to his best friend. “Oh? That’s all you have to say? She went and…but we’re supposed to be…and now there’s another guy and…and…and…Slytherin!”

“Did you expect her to sit around and wait for you while you were off getting a leg over with any girl who stood still long enough?” Ginny asked, practically shrieking in indignation over the mere idea. “She needed someone and she found someone and you should be happy for her and relieved that they found each other because we could have lost both of them. I, for one, am damned glad they decided to fuck away their sorrows instead of drinking them away or, worse, hanging their selves in the attic! You are such a selfish ass, Ronald Weasley!”

“What? Lost them both? The attic? Who would…?” It must have finally dawned on Ron who it was because his face went even redder and his teeth clenched, hands fisting at his side for a moment before he turned and punched the boulder he had been leaning against, hard enough for a loud crack to be heard. And then he dropped to his knees, head hanging, as all of the anger drained away. After all, how can you be angry with you brother for fucking your girl when it was probably what prevented both of them from taking their own lives in a bout of depression?

“She could have come to me, talked to me. He could have talked to me. Why with each other? Didn’t she know I loved her? Didn’t he know?”

The despair and helplessness in his voice propelled his sister and his best mate forward, arms wrapping around him from both sides, joined quickly by Luna at his back. Neville at some point had wandered off with Hannah Abbott or he surely would have been there, too.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this here. Come to the common room, nobody will be there,” Ginny implored, sad for her brother and what could have been but also wanting privacy to explain a few things to his oblivious and self-centered ass.

“Why don’t we just go to Hermione’s room; nobody will be there either,” Ron grumbled a bit bitterly.

“Where is she, Ron?” Harry asked, pulling away from the redhead and looking around the room as if she would suddenly appear if he only looked for her.

“Probably in _his_ room, her boyfriend’s, down in the dungeons. Slimy Slytherin with his hands all over her,” Ron growled.

“And we’re leaving now,” Ginny announced, standing and dragging her brother to his feet and towards the door. “Did you stop to ask house affiliation before you crawled into bed with bimbo after bimbo? Don’t you dare throw stones when you’re standing in a glass house, Ron.”

Ron didn’t know what to say to that so he let his sister drag him and Harry out of the Hall, ignoring the curious looks of some of the professors. Something started niggling at the back of his brain, like a gnat buzzing around your head, too small to see but annoying nonetheless. It was when they were halfway up the stairs to the tower that it hit him. He stopped mid-step, foot hanging comically in the air and jaw dropping practically to his chest.

“Snape!” he shouted.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny was pretty sure her heart stopped. She really didn’t want this happening here, or anywhere really. She would have been perfectly happy if Ron hadn’t found out about Snape and Hermione until after they were married and had spat out a couple of curly-haired, black-eyed babies. Or, you know, never. Yeah, preferably never.

“Uh, what?” she said stupidly, hoping like hell she didn’t sound as guilty as she thought she sounded.

“Snape never came back in and he knew…I mean he’s a spy, right and he was there when she told me and he saw her! He stopped me from following her so he knew she went to the dungeons. He must’ve followed her!”

“And? What’s your point? ‘Mione can take care of herself and just because he followed her doesn’t mean he’ll find her,” Harry pointed out. “Besides, the most he can do if he does find her is give her detention.”

Ginny watched an idea flash across her brother’s face and prayed to every god she could think of that she was wrong and he wasn’t about to suggest…

“The map! We can use the map to see where she is and where he is and then maybe we’ll figure out who her boyfriend is, too. Maybe she needs our help, Harry. Maybe this Slytherin bloke is using her or taking advantage and she needs us to help her, think of that?” Ron was practically bouncing like the terrier his patronus took the form of.

Ginny wasn’t fooled. He was hoping the map would reveal who Hermione’s boyfriend was and was making up excuses Harry might actually fall for to get him to go along with it. She couldn’t let him see that map. Hermione would kill her. Snape would do worse than kill her. Ron would suffer a stroke and die and her mother would never forgive her for that. Harry would…who knew what he would do but Ginny sure didn’t want to find out.

“That’s an invasion of her privacy and an insult to her intelligence and her ability to handle herself,” she said in her best Molly Weasley voice, hoping to dissuade her brother from asking for the map. “And besides, if she wanted you to interfere she would have told you about her boyfriend. She didn’t even tell me about her boyfriend!” Ginny prayed that her half truth was believable enough.

“Mate, Gin’s right. I might not like the idea of her seeing some Slytherin guy but she knows what she’s doing and he can’t be all bad if he caught ‘Mione’s eye, right?” Harry reasoned. “She isn’t exactly going to fall into bed with anybody, yeah? He can’t be a blood purist and he’d have to be intelligent to keep up with her.”

“We wouldn’t have to be guessing if we just had a look at the map,” Ron insisted.

“Well, it’s my map and I’m not comfortable spying on my friend like that,” Harry replied firmly. “Besides, she’d hex us both if she found out, and she would find out. She’s Hermione Granger. She knows more ways to make us suffer than the both of us combined.”

It took some doing but between Harry and Ginny they managed to get Ron back to the common room which was mostly empty, a few firsties dotting the room and trying not to doze off as they finished up last bits of purloined sweets before heading to bed. A few glasses of honeyed mead and an honest conversation about missed chances and not taking things for granted later and Ron was snoring, head tilted back on the couch closest to the fireplace with Harry and Ginny slumped on either side of him.

“So, why did you really not want to show him the map, Gin,” Harry asked. “I figure it’s because you know exactly where she is and who she’s with, but feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

“She didn’t tell me who her boyfriend is,” Ginny insisted, looking her lover straight in his unnaturally green eyes.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t know,” he remarked as he stared right back into her eyes. “You forget my best friend is Hermione Granger and I can recognize a play on words in a blink. I suspect she is with a Slytherin but I doubt very much it’s a student,” Harry said with an arched brow that may or may not have been a veiled hint as to the identity of the Slytherin in question. Harry wasn’t much for subtlety though and so proved when he quipped, “Give Snape my best next time you see him and let him know I’ll definitely mean the unforgiveable I use on him if he hurts her,” as he hauled Ron up to his feet and dug out a packet of Floo powder, having special permission to use the normally closed system that evening only. “And please, spare me the details. Just because I know, doesn’t mean I want to _know,_ you know?”

A quick kiss to her stunned lips and they were gone, leaving Ginny absolutely gobsmacked in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. It seemed Snape had Harry’s seal of approval. Who’d’ve thought?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Down in the dungeon chambers of one Severus Snape, Hermione was feeling very much wanted, her best friend and former crush not on her mind at all. Severus’s talented tongue was torturing her with every twirl, twist, and thrust, drawing out her orgasm one slow lick at a time.

 She wanted to bury her hands in his hair and grind her cunt against his face. She wanted to throw her legs over his shoulders and pull him closer to her dripping core. She wanted to play with her breasts and pull at her hair and thrust up into his invading muscle but she couldn’t. All she could do was take the pleasure he was giving her and moan, grunt, groan, and cry at the beauty of it all.

And when he finally dragged her over the edge she begged him to fuck her, to take her rough and fast and deep like he had in the hallway. Severus apparently had other plans though because when he did surge up over her and sheath himself inside her tight, wet channel he did so with long, slow thrusts, rolling his hips and dragging his ridged head over her spongy walls over and over, driving her relentlessly towards another orgasm sure to be intense as it just kept building and building and building inside her.

 It felt like her magic was travelling down every nerve ending and coalescing on one spot, where their bodies joined and separated, joined and separated. If she could speak actual words she would have asked him if he felt it, too. Did he feel his magic rushing to meet hers at the core of her being? Surely the dark, heady feeling threatening to engulf what she knew was her magic had to be his?

Severus released her bonds with a thought and Hermione felt that dark magic briefly leave her core and flow out of him, reaching for the ropes and then rushing back when the ropes were gone. She was so boneless that it was Severus who lifted her legs around him and pulled her arms, one at a time, over his shoulders, dropping his chest to hers and getting as close as physically possible to her, all the while his cock and his magic filled her. He slanted his lips over hers, sending his tongue on a slow exploration of her mouth and keeping their eyes locked, nipping her lips when her eyes started to drift shut. She could feel magic there, too, in their locked gazes, as if the universe had narrowed down to these two beings and the magic between them.

And when they came, simultaneously which was not common, neither could deny seeing the bright white glow or the smoky tendrils of magic that briefly filled the room, disappearing almost before the initial shudder of pleasure had died down and the first aftershock had begun. Severus collapsed to the side, bringing Hermione over top him and breathing hard through his nose, eyes locked on hers in wonder.

 “What just happened?” Hermione asked when she was finally able to speak again.

 “This might surprise you, nymph, but I don’t actually know everything. Give me twenty minutes and we can see if we can make it happen again.” His voice was too breathy from exertion for her to tell if he was serious or not.

 “As much as I love…enjoyed that, in twenty minutes I want to be loose and relaxed from a hot bath and curled up under these covers for the rest of the night.”

 “Night? You won’t be leaving this bed for the rest of the weekend, pet,’ Severus growled. Tried to growl. The yawn made it difficult.

 “Might make it awkward when I need to pee,” Hermione joked through her own yawn.

 “Hermione, pet, _yawn_ , as much as I would, _yawn,_ love to indulge your every whim…”

 Whatever Severus was about to say, Hermione would just have to guess since the next sound out of his mouth was a soft snore. Of course, she couldn’t complain since she was also asleep, her face tucked up against his neck.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Didn’t you take Luna to the ball?” Hannah asked Neville between kisses.

“We’re just friends,” Neville answered. “I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Yes,” Hannah breathed out as his big hands slid up under the cropped top of her genie costume. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Yes?” Neville asked, voice breaking just a little bit as his fingertips brushed the underside of her soft breasts.

 “Merlin, yes,” Hannah gasped. “Do you want to go back to my room? Kitchens should be empty now; they were serving desserts when we left.”

 “Yes, absolutely,” Neville answered quickly, pulling his hands from her tiny nipples and practically dragging her out of the alcove where they had been snogging for the better part of half an hour.

They had snuck off to the dungeons as Hannah’s room was close to the Hufflepuff common room, meaning it was close to the kitchens where there were just too many people and elves to try and sneak by. Neville’s room was near the Gryffindor common room and he had wanted to go there but had bumped into Madame Hooch on the way and she had given him a knowing look and a shake of her head.

So he had turned around and walked Hannah back towards the Great Hall, waiting for Hooch to step inside the doors and then laughing as they had both taken off running towards the dungeon stairs at the same time. By the time they had reached the bottom he was already tugging her into his side, his hand dangerously low on her back. She didn’t seem to mind though because seconds after he pulled her into the alcove, she was in his lap and their lips were fused together.

Now it looked like they were going to take their snogging further and he couldn’t wait. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, grinning broadly at her giggle as he strode purposefully down the hall. He stopped at a cross hallway, glancing down one way to make sure the coast was clear before glancing down the other way. The coast was not clear. The coast was definitely not clear. The hall was long enough that it was difficult to see specific features but there was no mistaking the figure at the end of the hall.

Professor Snape was at the other end, turned away and facing his office door. Neville took a tentative step across the hall, hoping against hope that the spy didn’t hear him or notice him or sense his presence somehow. Hannah must have figured something was up because he felt her turn her head. She gasped when she spotted Snape at the end of the hall. Or, at least that’s what he thought she was gasping at.

Until she whispered behind his head, “Snape has a girlfriend?”

Neville whipped his head around to see what Hannah could see just in time to see way more than he wanted to see. Apparently Snape was snogging a woman against his office door. When he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, Neville knew that he needed to get out of there fast or Hannah was going to find out something that could get the both of them killed, or worse. He took the next two steps quickly, figuring Snape was way too busy to notice. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quick enough.

“Is that Hermione?” Hannah asked. “Oh my god, he ripped her dress off! Snape is shagging Hermione?”

They were so dead.


	26. I Got 99 Problems, But a Witch Ain't 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah is handled and Severus makes an admission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter. I don't like this chapter. I leave it here for you to dissect and set on fire if you so wish. Also, someone on FFN told me my northern accent was "off". I tried to fix it. Settled on Mancunian and did some more research and hoped it was ok. Still off apparently. The lovely Emmaficready on FFN was a total peach and fixed it for me. So I am reposting...AGAIN.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos on the last chapter and anything you choose to leave on this one! 
> 
> I swear the formatting issues are done by AO3 and not me...I don't know why it deletes some of my indentations. I apologize for the annoyance that may cause some of you.

Chapter 26: I Got 99 Problems, But a Witch Ain’t 1

Hermione was on cloud nine the following Monday at breakfast, which Severus had forced her to go to with sound logic about being seen to prevent suspicions, blah, blah, blah. He had a point, loath as she was to admit it. He had kept true to his word and hadn’t allowed her out of his bed all day Sunday except to use the facilities. Well, and to make love to her on his deliciously soft rug. And when he bent her over the coffee table in front of his fireplace, his fingers on her clit and his cock pistoning in and out of her arse like a well-oiled machine, thanks to a very handy lubrication charm. And when he had her reenact her first true lesson on control, her arms and legs tied to his chair while she had to magically start and stop a vibrator until he gave her permission to come.

Apparently he had really wanted to watch the original performance but hadn’t trusted himself, and with good reason since as soon as she had finished coming loudly on the vibrator he had replaced it with his cock and fucked her so hard the chair had collapsed. They were both so far gone they couldn’t stop, even though the pile of wood under them was not very comfortable to lie on and Hermione was fairly certain she had gotten a splinter in her bum.

Adding in riding him in the bathtub, being spread out on his sofa and feasted on and being trussed up like a turkey, suspended from the ceiling once she got over her trepidation, while he fucked her mouth and really, he hadn’t lived up to his promise at all. She had spent much more time out of the bed than in it but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Thank Merlin for magic because she probably wouldn’t be able to walk without it. Unfortunately, healing spells were the only magic they saw all weekend as the explosion of magic from the previous evening did not repeat.

Regardless, all of this added up to one very happy Hermione sitting down to breakfast with nary a care in the world and a very optimistic outlook for the rest of the day, though she was worried about her potions class that morning and how she was going to resist dragging Severus into the storeroom for a morning quickie. Another morning quickie. Hermione giggled.

“Someone is very happy this morning,” Ginny grumbled as she plopped down next to her best friend.

“Someone else isn’t,” Hermione retorted. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? You’re usually a morning person.”

“Frustration of the sort you certainly don’t have to worry about,” Ginny snarled. “Ron, that arse, was so aggravated that Harry and I spent whatever time we might have had together liquoring him up and calming him down so Harry could drag him home.”

Hermione had forgotten all about Ron and felt really horrible now that he had been brought back to her attention. “I was a little harsh with him. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“Girl, don’t worry about it. It isn’t your fault my brother can be a total knobhead and it certainly isn’t on you that he did what we Weasley’s do best…overreact. He shouldn’t have cornered you like that, like you should have just been waiting around for him.”

Hermione watched Ginny pile her plate high with more food than Hermione could eat in two meals and marveled at how the girl stayed so fit eating like that. If Hermione didn’t hate flying so much she might play quidditch just to keep in shape. The girls ate a few bites in companionable silence, both lost in thoughts and content to just coexist until that silence was broken by a very-panicked Neville practically falling onto the bench across from them.

“Hermione do that thing, that buzzing thing, right now,” Neville pleaded, eyes darting to the high table so frequently Hermione wondered why he bothered taking them off of it to begin with.

She cast the _muffliato_ , encasing the three of them in relative privacy and smiled encouragingly at Neville. He didn’t see it because his eyes were glued to the head table, apparently coming to the same conclusion Hermione had and not bothering to look away.

“Neville, what’s wrong?” Ginny asked, snapping him out of his daze.

“I’m a dead man, Gin and I am way too young to die,” Neville answered, voice serious as a heart attack.

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic to be shared over kippers,” Hermione remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s kind of your fault, ‘Mi,” Neville barked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You can’t help who you love. Wish you had decided to show that love somewhere other than a public corridor where two people looking for a bit of their own privacy could stumble upon you and one of them who was up to that point unaware of said love could get a clear glimpse of the object of your affection ripping your clothes off against a door. But yeah, you can’t help it so…” Neville trailed off as Ginny choked on a mouthful of pumpkin juice and Hermione felt all the blood drain from her face.

“I’m sorry but…what?” Ginny asked when she could breathe again.“Who? What? What did you do?”

“What do you mean, what did I do? I took her back to her room and shagged her senseless and then acted like I didn’t know what she was talking about and did my best to convince her she didn’t see who she thought she saw. I don’t know if she bought it but she did promise not to say anything on the off chance that she is wrong and she gets you expelled and Snape thrown in Azkaban on false accusations.” Neville darted another look at the head table, squeaking when this time Snape met his eye and sneered.

“Who? You didn’t say who saw us, Neville. I need to know who it was,” Hermione pushed. Two people knowing was bad enough, but now they were up to four, by her count, and the secret was bound to get out sooner rather than later with numbers like that.

“I don’t want to say,” Neville mumbled.

“You don’t get that choice, Neville,” Hermione growled. “My life and his are on the line here so you will tell me who.”

“Hannah Abb…” Neville started, flinching when Hermione abruptly canceled the charm and pushed away from the table.

“Hermione, what are you going to do?” Ginny hissed as her friend turned to the Hufflepuff table with shoulders set and determination in her eyes. She was scary Hermione and Gin was worried.

“Handle it,” Hermione answered steadily, ignoring Neville’s plea for her to wait and Ginny’s outstretched arm trying to physically stop her.

She strode over to the pretty ‘puff and used all of her self-control to ask very politely if the girl would come talk to her for a minute. In Hannah’s room. It was so much closer and she really needed some privacy for this conversation. And then she followed Neville’s girl back to the room where he had “shagged her senseless”. The setting of this conversation was important, one less thing Hermione would have to try and remember in minute detail.

“Ok, Hermione, what’s up? Did I really see what I thought I saw?” Hannah asked, curiosity and a bit of disgust on her face. She held no attraction for Snape, to be sure, and was probably turned off by the idea of anyone shagging him, let alone a student.

“Yes,” Hermione answered simply. “You saw Professor Snape hold me against a door in the dungeons, kiss me, tear open my dress…I’m not sure how far we got before you left but if you were there a bit longer you would have seen him fuck me against that door.”

Hermione watched as Hannah took it all in. She could read the girl’s face like a book, which worked for her plan because she needed to know what emotions to play with when she modified her memory. She couldn’t leave a feeling of disgust behind on a memory without a reason for the disgust, for example. The girl would just go crazy trying to reconcile her latent feelings with events that didn’t match those feelings.

Hannah’s face reflected surprise, a bit of lust probably at the idea of someone ravishing _her_ against a door, a dash of disgust, and a smidgeon of fear. Hermione could work with those. Casting a _petrificus_ , she watched the younger witch slump to the side, her blonde head hitting the pillow a split second before Hermione locked their eyes together and cast _legilimens_. Hermione had taught herself legilimency and occlumency in hopes that she could actually pass on the skills to Harry, when his lessons with Snape weren’t proving fruitful. She never thought she would use the skill like this, however. Well, not again, anyway, not after her parents.

Diving into the girl’s mind, Hermione pulled the memory of Saturday night to the front, replaying what she had seen thrown over Neville’s shoulder a few times to get a good image in her own mind. She had done something similar when modifying her parents’ memories, pulling them out and cementing them in her own mind so she could make subtle but necessary changes before replacing them in her parents’ heads. She did so again, paying attention to every little detail, even the girl’s own feelings of arousal for Neville, the buzz of blood rushing to her head as she hung upside down, the itchiness of her costume top across her nipples… And then she did the same with the memory of the events following, skipping through the shagging, impressive and somewhat surprising really but not requiring modification, and moving on to the conversation about what she had seen, all the way through Sunday just to make sure she hadn’t spoken to anyone else or thought about it in any way that would need editing and ending at being petrified in her own room.

Hermione pulled out of Hannah’s mind, well aware that she had been in there for long enough that they were both going to miss their first class of the day. She called for Tibby and sent messages to Severus and Madame Pomfrey, informing the first of the situation and that she was handling it and informing the second of Hannah’s blinding headache and need for a potion and excuse from class, in Hannah’s handwriting no less.

Then she settled down on the floor to meditate so she could clear her own mind and focus on modifying the memories just enough to make them believable. She allowed Hannah to “see” her and Snape and left the feeling of surprise intact. She modified Snape’s image so that he was a little shorter, a lot stockier, and wearing robes that, while black, were not anything Hannah could recall Snape wearing. This would cast doubt that she had actually seen Snape. The disgust was left but Hermione inserted the thought “why would anyone want their boyfriend to dress up as Professor Snape?” into the memory to sow even more doubt as to the identity of the lovers.

She left the lust and fear alone for the most part, letting Hannah’s mind naturally attribute them to her own aroused state and the fear of getting caught. Modifications done she moved on to the conversation she had had with Neville, leaving it mostly alone and only tweaking a few remembered sentences here and there to reflect the modifications she had already made. Hannah’s side of the conversation wasn’t about Hermione shagging Snape, it was about Hermione shagging a Snape look alike. It worked well with her existing memory because there was a moment where Neville had been naming other people that Hannah might have seen and trying to offer up other explanations.

She did change the part of the conversation where Neville had asked her to be quiet about it so as not to make false accusations about a teacher, instead having him ask her to remain silent so as not to embarrass Hermione about her apparent crush on the bat of the dungeons and so that it didn’t get back to said bat and lead to an even more humiliating situation were the object of her affections to learn of the incident and take offense.

She added on to the memory of Hermione admitting to shagging Snape to show a tear-filled confession about her unnatural attraction and asking her boyfriend to meet her in the dungeons dressed as the surly professor for a spot of role playing, convinced they wouldn’t be caught since Snape was busy at the ball, conveniently skipping over revealing the name of the made-up boyfriend. She made sure to make her memory self very red in the face with shame and inserted feelings of pity and empathy on Hannah’s part. The new conversation lasted quite some time, with both of them missing class and Hermione suggesting that Hannah just claim a headache and writing her own note to Professor Snape, ostensibly to apologize for missing class, claiming womanly problems and accepting whatever punishment he saw fit to dole out.

Satisfied with the result and positive it would hold up to further scrutiny, Hermione put her wand to her forehead and extracted it, popping it into a small dish meant for jewelry sitting on the nightstand. She cast a glamour on her face to make her look red and puffy, as she would look had she actually been crying, and then turned her wand on the petrified witch. Apologizing to the girl, Hermione cast _obliviate_ , skillfully deleting Hannah’s memories up to that point before inserting the replacements, casting a _finite_ , and striding to the other girl’s door.

“Thank you so much for talking to me. And promising to keep my secret. You are an absolute peach and I’m so happy Neville finally plucked up the courage to ask you out,” Hermione shot at the confused witch clutching at her head. “I’m sorry you actually ended up with a headache; thank goodness we got the potion from Pomfrey, eh?”

Before the girl could ask any other questions, or any questions really, Hermione ducked out into the hall, removed her glamour, and made haste to the dungeon just in time to catch the second half of her double potions class.

“Miss Granger, so good of you to grace us with your presence,” Severus drawled while the rest of the class tried to make themselves as small as possible to escape his wrath. “I take it you have…resolved…your issues?”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione responded, making her voice small as though intimidated or embarrassed.

“Then by all means, find…your…seat.”

And that was that. Hermione rushed to her seat and proceeded to catch up to her peers. She was halfway through the required reading when she felt it, his magic, washing over her skin as he cast privacy charms around her table.

“Talk,” he said simply.

Hermione’s hands kept working as she spilled, “Neville made an unfortunate choice of location for a tryst with Hannah Abbot. She saw us, recognized us, or thought she did. Neville tried to dissuade her but she wasn’t entirely convinced. I replaced her memories. Now she thinks I have a thing for you, quite unrequited I assure you, and that I talked my boyfriend into dressing up as you for a naughty tryst of our own. I left her in her room with one hell of a headache.”

“And if she thinks it’s too good a secret not to spread around the school that you’re hot for teacher?” he asked, his voice rumbling down her spine.

“Well she had a whole day to spread around that I was shagging teacher and she didn’t…didn’t even think about it, actually, so…” Hermione trailed off meaningfully.

“Let us hope that she is a true testament to her House, then.”

Magic skittered across her skin as he cancelled his charms and stepped away. And that was that. For now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                Neville cornered her after class. To be expected really. Of course, Hermione wasn’t expecting it because she hadn’t been there the previous year when Neville had found his backbone and his self-confidence. She truly hadn’t considered that he would drag her into an alcove, and really why did a sentient castle home to children have so many damned hidden alcoves? It was almost like the castle wanted the students to get into mischief.

                “What the bloody hell did you do to my girlfriend?” he demanded, standing entirely too close and making it very known that he had certainly grown since their 6th year.

                “Nev, back up before I hex your bollocks off.”

                It was probably the matter-of-fact, overly polite way she said it more so than the actual threat but Neville lost his spine again and took an instant step back. In hindsight, it might have been the fact that he knew how capable she was of carrying through. Either way, effective.

                “I modified her memories of this weekend,” Hermione answered after casting an overabundance of privacy charms. There were still other students in the corridor, after all. “She thinks I have a sexual attraction to Severus and that my boyfriend dressed as him on Halloween and we snuck down to the dungeons when we knew Snape would be chaperoning the ball to carry out a fantasy.”

                Neville seemed to need a minute to come to terms with how he felt about the situation. Hermione saw anger at the idea of Hermione modifying Hannah’s memories, confusion as to why Hermione had let her believe there was a real attraction, disgust at the idea of any man willingly dressing up as another for any sexual purpose, and reluctant acceptance of the overall solution to the Hannah problem.

                “Have you told Professor Snape yet?” he asked.

                “No,” Hermione replied, noting the look of relief on Neville’s face. “I told him I was handling a problem. I see no need to give him any more details, since it is no longer a problem.”

                She was lying through her teeth, of course, having already told Severus about it, but Neville needed reassurances and Hermione needed him to stay on her side. So if she had to lie to him to maintain his loyalty and, not more but just as importantly, his silence, then so be it. She really would have made an excellent Slytherin.

                “Thank you, ‘Mi. Really. For not telling him and for not obliviating her completely. I only just got her; I didn’t want to lose her already.”

                Hermione grinned. “Oh, from what I saw in her head, I’d say you have no chance of that. Just keep shagging her senseless, perhaps against a door, and she’ll stick around forever.”

                Neville couldn’t stop the violent red flush from stealing across his face and Hermione couldn’t hold back her laughter. He stammered a few lines about checking on Hannah, getting to class, whatever and ducked out of the alcove, yelping like a Pomeranian when he nearly collided with the snarky potion’s professor but not letting it slow his departure one bit.

                Taking Neville’s place, having no trouble seeing through her impressive, and impressively excessive, wards and charms, Severus merely crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow, letting his face say everything.

                “Yes, I know I didn’t want you to mess with my friends’ memories when they found out but really, Hannah is more of an acquaintance and needs must. And all that.”

                And there went the other eyebrow.

                “Don’t give me that attitude. I want to keep on with you for as long as possible and though I honestly believe Hannah wouldn’t have said anything, I didn’t know that prior to swimming around her head and since I was already there, why take chances? She might have thought she was doing me a favor and you were taking advantage or something.”

                Severus’s eyebrows dropped down low over his narrowed eyes, nostrils flaring and lips thinning in anger at the idea, or the reminder that he had been taking advantage, even if only in his own mind. Hermione rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around the impossible wizard, resting her head against his chest.

                “I don’t want this to end, not now, and I certainly don’t ever want anyone to think what we have, what we do, is wrong or that I am some kind of victim. So I will do what I must to preserve our secret until we are ready, if we are ever ready, to make it public,” she stated firmly, noting how his heartbeat sped up.

                “We just have to be more careful,” she assured him, kissing the center of his chest and casting a _revelio_ to ensure the halls were cleared before she too took her leave of the alcove, leaving behind a very conflicted Severus Snape.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                _Sev, breathe,_ he commanded himself, suddenly gulping in air as if breathing had stopped being an autonomic response and he willfully had to remind himself of its necessity.

                His mind was a jumble of disjointed thoughts. He wasn’t concerned about Hermione’s lack of compunction in modifying Miss Abbot’s memories. In truth, he was impressed with her skill and quick thinking and touched that she would do something so risky to protect him. It was her words, about them, about how long they were going to last, about going public at some point, about an implied future, that had him so thrown.

                She wanted what they had to last “as long as possible” and didn’t want it to end “now”, which suggested she knew it was going to end eventually but also thought that they would get to a point where they were “ready to make it public”. If she felt it was going to end, why would she intimate a future in which others would be made aware of them? Severus had never had the luxury of thinking about the future, of what it might hold for him. He didn’t afford himself the luxury, fully expecting to die in the war and thinking he would do so still clutching on to the memory of a dead woman who had loved another, whom he had loved and promised to love always.

                Thinking of promises of always made him realize that he hadn’t thought about Lily while with Hermione. She had completely taken over his life, waking and sleeping, and he felt a bit disloyal to his vow to Lily’s memory now that he was aware of just how long it had been since the redhead had crossed his mind. He prided himself on keeping his word when given and the realization that a 19 year old girl, Lily’s son’s best friend, had been able to make him break his word, his promise to remain loyal, was shaking him more than it probably should.

                She was very much like Lily in some ways and yet very different in so many others. Lily had been smart, truly gifted in charms, brave enough to risk his father’s wrath by hiding Severus out at her house and joining the order, rash enough though to throw herself in front of her child not thinking that if she were to die, there would be nobody to protect the boy anyway. She had been kind and loyal, but also intolerant and unforgiving when something went against her own moral code. Like Severus had. She was a true Gryffindor, through and through.

Hermione, on the other hand, was Ravenclaw intelligent and witty, logical enough not to make rash decisions unlike her fellow lions, yet kind, and funny, hardworking and loyal as a ‘puff. True to her house she was also noble, and brave, yet cunning and as ambitious as any Snake…Circe, it was like she was a perfect amalgamation of all 4 houses rolled into one deliciously sexually deviant package.

                Severus leaned against the stone wall, feeling a bit weak in the knees. He wanted her, more than he had wanted anything other than Lily. Maybe even more than that. He wanted her in his bed, definitely, but also in his shirt, reading while lying supine between his legs on the sofa. He wanted her across the table, eating a meal he had taught her to cook or whatever they could summon when they were too wrapped up in each other to bother putting clothes on. He wanted her laughter and her swotty superiority and the way she sighed his name before she fell asleep. He wanted her impossible hair choking him awake in the morning and he wanted her dominance almost as much as he wanted her submission, equals in the game they played.

 _You love her, Sev. Like you loved Lily. Maybe more than you loved Lily_. _Admit it, even if just to yourself; you love her and you are scared shitless._

And there it was.

The witch had stolen his heart away from the girl who had held it since he was a small boy and, just like he had then, he knew now that he had nothing to offer the woman currently holding it in her plucky, muggle-born grip.

He was 38 years old, broken and battered, disillusioned with life, cynical and sarcastic and often sadistic. He was a teacher at a boarding school with no prospects for better employment despite his status as a war hero due to the ugly mark on his arm and a distinct lack of trust from the general public. His house was the same rundown hovel of his childhood in a distinctly muggle neighborhood requiring he pay muggle taxes with what meager pay his job afforded him. Apparently having all living expenses covered for 10 months of the year meant that a teacher’s actual pay need not be much.

It hadn’t actually bothered him as he had plenty left over to spend on his lab equipment and his books. Not to mention how exorbitantly expensive his robes were. Seeing no need to save much money as, again, he fully expected to die young, and certainly not wanting to put a single knut into the hellhole he grew up in outside of what was required for general upkeep, his vault at Gringott’s wasn’t exactly brimming with gold and silver. Meaning, he was stuck teaching until or unless something else came along.

What beautiful, intelligent young woman with the world in the palm of her hand would choose a wizard she wouldn’t see most of the year who wouldn’t bring anything other than bad habits and an even worse reputation into the deal? The public would crucify her, figuratively speaking, and him probably quite literally speaking. They would make insinuations, accusations, about his proclivities and her morals. It would be her 4th year all over again except worse, so much worse.

Ruin.

That’s all he had to offer her.

 _If you love something, set it free._ _Isn’t that how that damn saying goes?_

Severus squared his shoulders and pushed away from the wall. He had classes to teach and didn’t want to think about this anymore. Or ever. He knew their time was short but he was just selfish enough to take what he could get but also just honorable enough to keep his feelings to himself so as not to oblige her to reciprocate and potentially ruin the rest of her life.

 _She reads thee like a book, boy. Yer nor 'idin ' nowt from 'er._  
  
S'good thing am a master occlumens, then, innit?  
  
So, wha's thee gonna do lad? 'ide be'ind t'walls and think she ain't gonna notice when yeh turn inta a righ' nasty bastard again? Come off it.  
  
An' spy an all. Didja forge' tha' part? She waint notice owt. It'll be rate.  
  
If 's all fine, as yeh say, then why am I 'ere? An' why are yeh all ov a sudden thinkin ' like yer back in Spinner's End? Forge' all yer fancy talk, boy?  
  
Shurrup, Da. Dint need yeh then and don' need yeh now. Crawl back in t'pauper's hole yeh came from. Be'er yet, keep diggin' straigh' back t'ell!

When no reply was forthcoming, Severus smirked triumphantly, refusing to think about why he had just had a mental argument with a dead man, or why he was so pleased that he had won a mental argument with a dead man, and cleared his mind. He would enjoy his pet and then he would let her go live her life when she was done with the game and ready to move on.

                _And if she foolishly decides she loves you back? She’s a teenage girl, after all, and you are her first real relationship. Not to mention, her Gryffindor heart might decide it’s worth the ruin._

                Severus brushed the thought aside as nonsense. His mother hadn’t loved him enough to leave his abusive father. His father hadn’t loved anything enough to give up the drinking and the fighting. His best friend hadn’t loved him enough to forgive a word spoken out of bruised pride. His…whatever Albus was…hadn’t loved him enough to spare him the pain of assisting in his suicide. Severus knew, had always known, that he was always destined to love too much and be loved not enough in return. So even if the chit decided she loved him, Severus knew it wasn’t going to be enough to keep her from the rest of her life.

                And if she was foolish enough to think otherwise…         

Well, he was a right nasty bastard, after all, and was confident he could disavow her of that notion without breaking a sweat.

So it was that, with walls firmly in place and his equilibrium temporarily restored, Severus Snape returned to his classroom, prepared as he always was for the inevitable sacrifice and accompanying heart break that was the only constant in his life.


	27. Taking What He Can Get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus tries to push Hermione away but he's too much of a sap to carry through with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so sorry with how long this update has taken. I ended up bedridden in the fetal position for almost 2 weeks thanks to genetic disorders, back injuries, and an incredibly strong dog. I could barely move. Then almost as soon as I got better, I started my masters program. I have successfully completed my first class but it kicked my ass, for sure. I haven't had time to write anything in the last 6 weeks. Seriously, I'm sorry!

Chapter 27: Taking What He Can Get

The next six weeks were as close to perfect as Severus could ask for. His days were humdrum, save for the occasional mishap in potion’s class, but his nights, what nights he could spend with her anyway…they were anything but. He had Hermione in every way he could imagine and some that came solely from the recesses of her own perverse musings. They used nearly every toy in his trunk, save for the hooks and the full face mask, and he more than made up for his truly atrocious introduction to suspension. He made damned sure that when he did truss her up, he never struck her. They would have to build back up to that. One day. Perhaps.

They no longer had separate spaces for their games; he just as easily dominated her in his bed or on the sitting room floor as he did in his office and she took charge whenever the mood struck, straddling his hips on the couch, spreading herself open on the dining table and commanding him to feast, or even one memorable night when she disillusioned herself and hid under his desk during office hours. It just so happened that hell experienced snow flurries that day; a fourth year Ravenclaw actually needed his council and so he had guided the student through the requirements of the assignment and some possible resources to use while his cock was buried down the throat of a very naughty Gryffindor. He had to feign frustration with the exceptionally bright student to cover up his groan when he shot his seed deep down her throat, trying not to twitch as she continued to lap at his sensitive head afterwards.

                That isn’t to say that if Hermione felt he needed to get out of his head and let go, she wouldn’t still saunter into his bedchamber and stand, hands on hips and eyebrow arched, silently commanding him to obey and worship her as she deserved. On those occasions he happily let her take top position, falling to his knees and losing himself in her, with her, for her. He found himself enjoying submitting almost as much as he enjoyed dominating. He had even allowed her to tie his hands to the bed, as long as he could free himself, and to blindfold him. He had enjoyed the anticipation, wondering where her lips were going to land next.

He even found that his pet truly enjoyed following his commands and he tested her limits by commanding her to do all manner of things. His favorite was when she wore a collar and crawled after him around his chambers, kneeling dutifully at his feet and rubbing her head against his shins whenever he would pause. He had started pacing back and forth just to watch her crawl around in circles. He sent her to fetch his slippers, not forgetting that she had commandeered them and smiling as she searched for them, growing more frantic the longer she went without finding them. He had finally taken pity on her and acted as though he had changed his mind, instead ordering her to remove his clothing. Then he commanded his pretty little pet to lick him clean, praising her efforts and thoroughly returning the favor.

Severus was surprised to find that his favorite moments with Hermione were ones in which they didn’t have sex at all. When he could get away with it, he would sequester himself in his rooms, sprawled on his couch with Hermione lying against his chest, reading. Sometimes they each would be lost in their own books, others he would hold the book and they would read together. Usually, however, she would ask him to read aloud to her, curling up belly to belly and resting her ear against the rumble of his chest until she drifted to sleep. In those moments he would toss the book aside, bury one hand in her ridiculous hair and use the other to rub circles on her back until it inevitably soothed him to sleep.

At the moment he was enjoying one of those sex-free moments. Hermione’s perky bum was perched on his lap in the kitchens as she ate risotto, after he had taught her the proper way to cook risotto. The elves were only too happy to abide by the command of _Headmaster_ Snape and vacate the premises. Hermione had not yet cottoned on to the fact that the castle and its magical inhabitants responded to Severus as if he were still in charge. Severus chalked it up to her muggle upbringing; she probably attributed it to his position as a professor, as if any professor could have done it.

“Oh my god, Severus,” Hermione said on a truly filthy moan, wiggling her bottom against his groin. “This is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.”

Severus wasn’t sure if he should be offended, since he knew damned well how much she enjoyed wrapping her lips around his cock, or proud of his cooking prowess…since he knew damned well how much she enjoyed wrapping her lips around his cock! If it weren’t for the fact that the chit possessed almost no guile whatsoever, he would think she was toying with him.

“And just when I think it can’t get better, I swallow and that taste hits the back of my throat and…. _mmmm_ ,” she moaned worthy of a porn star and wiggled again.

So, okay, she might possess a bit more guile than he had originally given her credit for. Severus cursed the frigid air of December in Scotland and the drafty castle which necessitated the use of layers separating him from her warm cunt. He was nothing if not ingenuous however and so waited until she bent to take another bite, using his left hand on her back to push her down to the table and the index finger of his right hand to carefully apply a severing hex to her jeans, leggings, and knickers, thrusting his hand inside to find her slick slit and the greedy little bud begging for attention at the top of it. Her moan was a lot less porn-worthy this time but more arousing in it’s honestly.

He pushed her head closer to the bowl of cooling risotto and commanded, “Eat, pet. I would not wish to deprive you,” while circling his fingers around her opening.

She tried to fight him, to turn her head to the side, to push up from the table, but he was too strong and she had no leverage. Severus thrust two fingers fully inside her tight heat and smirked as her pussy clenched around them.

“Eat,” he commanded again.

“Yes, Master,” Hermione whispered, dipping her head into the bowl and taking a tentative bite.

Severus rewarded her with another thrust of his fingers, dropping his thumb to press against her distended clit. She gasped and rolled her hips, seeking more friction, whining when he ceased all movement. She was clever though, and quickly gobbled another bite. And so they played, with Severus rewarding each bite she took with a thrust and a rub, until her food was gone and she was a wet, mewling mess, risotto stuck to her chin and creamy arousal soaking the crotch of her infuriating layers of clothing.

He sliced her clothing away from her lower body, lifted her knees onto the table and spread them wide to accommodate his hips. The sight of her in nothing but a fluffy jumper, knee socks, and knit boots spread on the table in front of him had him wishing they were on a soft rug in front of his fire. Beggars couldn’t be choosers though and the table was going to work just fine. He had his cock out and buried in her tight channel before her skin could even prickle from the cold.

He was not gentle, ramming fully into her and shaking the bowls and cutlery off of the table to smash against the stone floor. Hermione was appreciative, screaming her pleasure in the form of his name with each hard, fast thrust of his aching prick into her welcoming center. Her hands clawed at the table, trying desperately to hold on as Severus used both hands to pin her spread thighs flat to the wooden surface.

Finally, she came, clenching around his cock and shaking so hard the table nearly collapsed. Severus waited just until her pussy unclenched enough to pull free before doing just that, spinning her until her head was level with his bobbing dick and using one hand in her hair to pull her head up to the right angle and the other hand on her jaw to force her mouth open. He worked his cock, glistening with her pussy juices, deep into her mouth, giving her no time to adjust before he started thrusting, bumping his head against the back of her throat.

He was so worked up that it didn’t take long before he was commanding her to swallow and shooting hot spurts of cum down her throat, pulling his dick out of her mouth slowly so that his seed spread along the length of her tongue, the last of it shooting right onto her lips and chin as his cock popped free of her mouth. Her face and his dick were a mess of risotto and his cum and he used his napkin to clean them both, pulling her up to sit on the edge of the table, not caring that their combined juices were leaving a puddle on the antique wood.

He left her sitting there, slightly dazed, while he tucked himself away and retrieved and repaired her clothing, slipping her shoes off so he could lovingly slide each piece up her legs until she was once again dressed, shoes replaced and all trace of their presence spelled from the room. He dropped a quick kiss to her lips, smiling at the satisfied look plastered on her face, before pulling her along behind him, the castle once again answering his call and opening a passage to his chambers where none had existed before.

It was the weekend and she wasn’t expected to be in her room, the sole benefit of her closest friends knowing of their relationship, so he led her straight to his en suite, setting the bath to fill and leaving Hermione at the side of the tub, fully dressed until the steam from the tub could warm up the room. From his wardrobe he grabbed soft flannel pajamas, thick socks, and thermal underwear from the growing pile of her clothing, and a pair of black sweat pants, thermal t-shirt, and socks from “his side.” It did not escape his notice that his living quarters were becoming more and more _their_ living quarters, with her stuff intermingled with his own. He often wondered what was actually left in her room, sure that it all must have migrated into his judging by the sheer quantity of bric-a-brac lying about.

Digging through a pile of said bric-a-brac, Severus located a hair clip closely resembling a spider, to be honest, and returned to the bathroom, now sufficiently steamy. Hermione had already undressed, her clothing folded neatly in a pile on the counter, and was buried neck deep in the sudsy water, her hair draped over the edge of the tub so as not to get wet. Severus gathered it up and clipped it atop her head after depositing their sleepwear alongside her clothes. He stripped, banishing his clothing to the laundry, and joined her in the tub.

Their increasing domesticity should have clued him in to the possibility, but he blamed his complete lack of experience for not seeing the conversation coming. It was less than a week until the end of term, not quite two until the Christmas holiday, and they hadn’t been apart more than a day or two since they started their affair…relationship. Still, he was unprepared.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                “What were you thinking of doing for the holiday, Severus?” Hermione asked, hoping it had come across as casual interest.

                “The same as always, I would think,” he answered drolly, soaping her arm down to her fingertips and massaging them one by one. “It is a toss-up between staying here, sleeping late, reading, and brewing or retiring to Spinner’s End, sleeping late, reading, and brewing. Why do you ask?”

                “Don’t you want company for Christmas? Nobody wants to be alone on Christmas,” Hermione replied without thinking.

                “I have been alone a great many Christmases and I can assure you, I am quite content that way,” Severus rebutted, dropping her arm and picking up the other.

                “But you don’t have to be,” Hermione insisted, not wanting to push him into anything or make him feel obligated to invite her to spend the holiday with him, but starting to get anxious that he hadn’t brought it up at all in the past few weeks. She practically lived with him for Merlin’s sake; it seemed logical to her that he would ask her to spend Christmas with him.

                “I prefer to be alone,” Severus insisted, missing the signs of growing anxiety in his lover’s features, too focused on soaping between her cheerfully painted toes.

                “But if you didn’t have to be…”

                “I would still choose to be, Hermione,” Severus interjected. “I find people to be at once dull and irritating. The sheer stupidity of most people is more than enough to convince me that I am better off alone than in the company of any of them. Frankly, the idea of spending even one day surrounded by overly cheerful, drunken tomfoolery made worse by twinkling lights and glitter turns my stomach.”

                “So you celebrate Christmas alone? But Christmas is about love and family. It isn’t meant to be spent alone,” Hermione argued, trying not to feel hurt that he would count her amongst the rabble of stupid, overly cheerful, drunken fools.

                “Two things the universe never saw fit to allow me,” Severus pointed out, breaking her heart whether he knew it or not.

                “You’re still young. You could find… someone, start a…a family,” Hermione choked out. He apparently wasn’t thinking as long term about them as she had been starting to think.

                “I’m fine by myself, Hermione. Come, pet, it’s too cold to stay in the bath so long.” And with that he finished washing quickly and ushered them both out of the tub, drying them with a charm and handing her the pile of clothing he had gathered for her.

                Hermione dressed on autopilot, a little taken aback at how adamant he had been about being alone. She thought she knew what was happening between them and where it might have been heading. She could fully acknowledge that she loved him, probably had loved him since he had revealed his horrible past to her tied to his own bed. She hadn’t made specific plans for the future but whenever she thought about it his presence was a given. Apparently he did not feel the same about her, did not envision a future with her in it. She was six months from graduating. Six months and she wouldn’t have to hide him, hide what they were to each other. But now she didn’t know what that was.

                After they were both tucked under the many covers on his ludicrously outfitted bed, not even magic being strong enough to lift the chill of the dungeon room, and her head was nestled in the crook of his neck, Hermione broached the topic again.

                “I suppose I’ll be spending the holiday with Harry. He says I can stay with him at Grimmauld since my…since I don’t have…and we’ll go to the Burrow for Christmas dinner, I’m sure. Things are still a little awkward with Ron but I’ll manage. I guess.”

                She waited for his response, wondering if the idea of her being alone with Harry or facing Ron would be enough to warrant an invitation. Or if the reminder that he wouldn’t see her for two weeks would be enough for him to extend an invite. She was disappointed.

                “I’m sure,” he yawned,” you can handle Weasley.” Just like that he was asleep, his deep breaths stirring her hair.

                “Not the point,” she sighed, burrowing closer to his side and resigning to figure it all out tomorrow.

                The day dawned gray and wet and miserable and the last thing Hermione wanted to do was get out of bed, even if she couldn’t tell that the day was gray and wet and miserable from this windowless room. Her bladder had other ideas and so she was forced to dart into the freezing bath and hover precariously over the cold toilet seat, damning the dungeons for being so impervious to basic warming charms. When she was finished she dove head first back under the covers, tucking her icy nose into Severus’s very warm armpit and waking him up.

                “Merlin’s teeth, woman, you’re an icicle!” Severus yelped, dragging her head out of his armpit by her hair. He stoked the fire higher with a quick wave of his wand and cast a warming charm on the bed, even though he knew it wouldn’t last long.

                “At least Grimmauld and the Burrow won’t be as bloody cold,” Hermione murmured.

                “Spinner’s End has central heat, a perk of being a muggle home. I added it years ago,” Severus boasted, reminding Hermione that he would rather be alone in his muggle home than spend the holiday with her.

                She took a gamble. “It will probably be warmer than Grimmauld. I think I’d rather be there.”

                Silence.

                Silence could not be good.

                He was probably trying to figure out how to tell her that he didn’t want her there without it causing a row. She was just about to open her mouth to tell him she hadn’t been serious when he spoke.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

                “I can think of nothing I want more than to christen every surface of my home with you, nymph, but we can’t,” Severus answered, finally realizing what she had been getting at the night before. He was going to blame exhaustion and inexperience with relationships for not being as sharp as usual.

                “Why not?” Hermione asked, dropping all pretense. “You live in a muggle neighborhood and nobody would recognize us, nobody would know.”

                “Potter and the Weasley’s would want to know why you aren’t joining them,” Severus replied, cutting Hermione off when her mouth opened to argue with him, “and McGonagall would suspect something if you didn’t go with them and wouldn’t cover for you if you said you were staying here and you didn’t.”

                “I could have Ginny cover for me so that no one asked questions. She can just say that I'm spending the holiday with my Slytherin beau. And, I’m an adult. I can go to the station but I don’t have to get on the train. I’ll just apparate from Hogsmeade,” Hermione reasoned.

                He could see the hope and the desperation shining in her eyes and knew that he was going to have to quash it, for her own good. This was the moment he had been dreading. When he might have to push her away, even just a little bit, just enough to get some emotional distance. “I don’t see a reason for the subterfuge. You haven’t had nightmares in over a month, even on the nights when we weren’t together. I can easily owl you instructions as I did when you were serving out your punishment which will keep you sated and your mind occupied, should the need arise.”

                “Severus, that isn’t-“

                “Besides, you have been spending far too much time in my company. You have friends and the whole point of this arrangement was so that you could overcome your guilt and anxiety and learn to move on. So far, all you’ve done was transfer your attention from George Weasley to me. How will you know you’ve truly healed if you don’t test yourself? Take this holiday as your first test, so to speak,” Severus concluded.

                Hermione didn’t respond for a long time. It was all Severus could do not to take it all back and beg her to come to his home and let him spend two glorious weeks doing as he wished with her without classes, curfews, patrols, and the possibility of being seen to worry about. He used all of his considerable skills to school his emotions and keep his breathing steady, as if this little bit of theater wasn’t tearing him apart.

                Hermione rolled away from him and out of the bed, his wardrobe doors flying open and her clothes following her to the bathroom. He ran his hands through his hair and down his face, cursing himself for ten kinds of a fool. He was a blink away from storming into the bathroom and begging her to come to his home over the holiday. He was saved from that when she came out, dressed in jeans, tall boots, a cable knit jumper, and her coat. Her hair was braided and tucked under a knit hat and she held gloves and a scarf in her hand.

                “Where are you going?” Severus asked, sitting up fully. They usually spent Sundays together, eating breakfast, making love, brewing for the hospital wing, and the like. He wanted her to back off emotionally a bit, not leave outright.

                “You’re right,” she answered, not looking at him. “I have been neglecting my friends and I can see where you might feel I traded one lover for another. Time apart might be exactly what is needed right now. I’m sorry I’ve taken over your life. I thought our ‘arrangement’ ended when we agreed to try a relationship instead. Clearly, you do not feel for me what I feel for you. My mistake.”

                Severus had just enough time to wonder what she felt for him before she was slipping out the door, her belongings flying from the various drawers and surfaces they resided in and on and following behind her like some Disney movie. He threw back the covers and chased after her, displacing some of her things in his rush to get to her before she left his chambers all together. He reached her as her impressive stack of books was zipping into her beaded bag and grabbed her arm, getting smacked by a thick tome for his troubles.

                “What are you doing?” he asked, not quite succeeding in concealing the panic in his voice.

                “I just told you,” she answered, still not meeting his eyes. “I’ve taken over your life and your chambers and all of your time and you want it back. Far be it from me to stay where I’m not wanted.”

                “Don’t be daft,” Severus growled. “How many more ways are there for me to show you that I want you? This isn’t about what I want, Hermione.”

                “What is it about then?” she asked, whipping her head up to glare at him and tearing her arm out of his grasp. “Do you only want me if I get to be your dirty secret? Something to help fuck away the boredom and tedium of teaching? When I leave will you just replace me with someone else, maybe find yourself a proper sub or go back to your clubs?”

                “NO!” Severus yelled, his blood running cold at the thought.

                “To which part?” Hermione countered, hands on hips and belongings still flying around, waiting for her to open her bag again.

                “Any of it. All of it,” Severus answered, resigned. “I don’t want you to be a secret; that’s just the way it has to be. You are not just someone to fuck, to relieve boredom. I can’t guarantee I won’t ever find someone else when you leave and I think it’s a bit selfish of you to ask me to remain alone for the rest of my life even after you move on and find someone else but I most certainly will not be getting a proper sub or going back to the clubs.”

                “So eager for me to leave, then?” Hermione asked, voice wobbly. “Maybe you even already have someone in mind to replace me. Maybe that’s why you don’t want me to come to your home for Christmas. Is there some muggle woman waiting for you, Severus?”

                Severus was at a loss. She was acting mental, as if she didn’t remember that he had confessed to never having a relationship before. She knew there was no one for him. He had told her she needed to be with her friends, to test herself away from him so she could live her life knowing that she didn’t need him to find peace, to be able to sleep at night. And yes, he had been pushing her away a bit, starting to distance himself, knowing that she would be leaving, but he wasn’t ending things with her.

                _Sev, you complete arse. That’s almost exactly what you said last night when you kept going on saying you prefer to be alone. And then you nudge her away a bit this morning. She probably thought you wanted to end it completely. She doesn’t realize you are far too selfish to do that. Yet. Not yet._

Severus wrapped Hermione in his arms and pulled her close. “You misunderstand me, pet,” he purred in her ear. “I wasn’t saying I don’t want you in my home or that I no longer want this relationship. I was merely pointing out that you have yet to test yourself since we began our relationship. We’ve never been apart like this and it would be good for you to know that you are not suddenly going to suffer panic attacks the moment you are away from me.”

                Hermione sniffled against his chest once…twice…and then all of her things, her clothes, her hairclips, her books, her ribbons, her shoes, her quills, her muggle pens, and even her toothbrush zoomed away to their previous positions. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hiccupped.

                “I’m sorry, Severus. I thought...it’s just that…I wanted to be free to be with you and I…but then you kept saying you preferred to be alone…and it seemed like you were pushing me away!” she sobbed.

                _I was, pet,_ he thought. _But I can’t do it. I can’t do it like this._

                “Come back to bed, Hermione. We have a few days before the break and I want to spend them with you. And after, after the break, after you know that you are strong again, whole again, safe again, we’ll talk.”

                Severus guided her back to his…their… bed, shedding clothing as they both went until they were bare and he could show her, again, how much he wanted her, slowly and tenderly, for hours, until neither of them had enough energy to think about their uncertain future.


End file.
